The Phantom of the Opera
by Kat097
Summary: The story of the Phantom of the Opera if another Viscount had been chosen as Patron of the Opera Populaire. As before, the new patron sets his sights on Christine, but with very different intentions. Now it is up to Erik to help her. ExC COMPLETED
1. Part One

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the Viscount de Martinez.

OK, basically this is an AU fic (Alternate Universe). Raoul doesn't come in, purely because I quite like the guy and didn't want him to seem all evil. He has been replaced with the Viscount de Martinez.

But before I begin, credit where credit is undeniably due - This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful beta La Foamy. For taking on the job of being my first beta (I've never used one before and it shows!) and for being so lovely.

And now - On with the show!

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part One**

"Christine, stop! You are doing it wrong!" Madame Giry said. Christine looked up from her steps. She, Meg and Madame Giry were in the dance room. Madame Giry sat at the piano, looking sternly at her.

"Left foot, first! _Left_!"

"Sorry Madame."

"Try it again. I want it in unison this time, girls." The music started again and Meg and Christine started to dance. Ballet steps: graceful and delicate, yet strong and flowing. Madame Giry kept an eye on them as she played.

The song ended. The girls looked to her for approval. She nodded. "Better. Much better. We will continue tomorrow. I must get to rehearsal." She left the room.

Christine sighed. "Oh, Meg… why can't I do this?"

"Christine, you are a very talented dancer," Meg replied, tying her lace. Christine watched.

"Not as good as you."

"Why don't you audition for the next show as a singer? You could get a better part than just a dancer," Meg said, stretching her limbs.

Christine stretched, too, as she replied, "You know why. With Carlotta at the Opera house there is no room for another singer."

"Carlotta is not the only good singer. Why don't you practice for a while? Everyone else is either rehearsing or in town," Meg said, gesturing to the piano.

Christine hesitated and then sat down. Meg looked at her across the top of the piano. "Christine… will you tell me… who is your tutor? I have heard mother mention your tutor occasionally, but never by name."

"I wish I knew!" Christine laughed. Meg stared at her.

"You don't know who it is?"

"Oh Meg… it is so complicated. Before my father died, he told me that when he was in heaven he would send an Angel of Music to me."

"You think it is… an Angel who teaches you?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I go to rehearse and the voice of my tutor calls to me," Christine said, playing a quick tune on the piano.

Meg gaped at her for a second and then laughed. "Oh, Christine, you are teasing me!" Christine cast her a glance over the piano and her laughter stopped. "You're serious? Your tutor is just a voice?" she asked, disbelievingly. Christine stopped playing and stared down at the black and white keys. Meg touched her hand.

"May I… may I accompany you to your rehearsal? To hear your tutor?"

"No, Meg. He… the Angel is very strict. I must go alone," Christine replied. Meg looked at her. Christine played a simple tune on the piano and started to practice her scales.

* * *

At ten o' clock that night, Christine slipped out of the dormitory and made her way to the stage. It would be deserted at this time. She sat on the edge of the stage, waiting for her tutor.

"_Christine_…" a voice echoed quietly around the room.

Christine got to her feet. "I am here."

"You are ready?"

"I am."

An instrument played scales and Christine practiced. But she was distracted. Meg's questions had made her curious. She had often wondered who her tutor was but had never asked through politeness. The music stopped.

"You are too tense."

"I am sorry, Master," Christine apologized.

"What troubles you, my angel?"

Christine looked around, searching for the source of the voice. As usual, she found none. "I…nothing."

"Nothing is nothing. If something troubles you, you must acknowledge it. You cannot sing if you are troubled."

"It is just… I have been learning from you for so long, since I was a child. And I have never seen you."

There was no reply. Christine's heart jumped with fear. "Master?" she asked desperately.

The voice replied after a moment, "You wish to see me?"

"I do. Very much."

"Not tonight. But soon, my dear. Soon."

A tune began to play. Christine frowned. "Master, that is the aria. Carlotta's prized piece."

"It is time to take it from the groping hands of Carlotta. I want you to make it your own," the voice said softly. Christine bit her lip.

The music stopped. "Sing the aria Christine. You will need to know it."

"Yes Master," Christine replied.

The session ended at midnight. Christine heard the voice say, "You may sleep."

"Thank you Master."

"Get plenty of rest. Events will be taking a turn tomorrow. You will need to be ready to sing."

"What do you mean Master?" Christine asked.

"You will see tomorrow. Goodnight, my Angel of Music."

"Goodnight, my gracious master."

It was the way they always ended their sessions. Christine bowed and left the room. She walked to her dormitory, tired but elated. Singing always made her feel so good.

* * *

Rehearsal the next day was going well when the two new owners of the Opera house came in, leading another man. The rehearsal halted as they stepped onto the stage.

"Everyone, we wish for you to meet our new patron! The Viscount de Martinez," André said, waving at the stranger. Everyone started to chat and peer at the newcomer.

Meg giggled and Christine elbowed her, "Meg!"

"He is so _handsome_!" Meg whispered girlishly. Christine couldn't deny it. The Viscount was incredibly good looking. His light blonde hair was cut quite short, framing strong, perfect features. His eyes were a startlingly blue, and piercing. He was well-built and stood strongly, surveying them all with interest.

Firmin said to him, "May we introduce you to our leading lady, Carlotta?" The Viscount shook hands with the giggling Carlotta, was introduced to Piangi, and then turned to the Ballet girls.

"The famous Ballet Girls of the Opera Populaire? I have heard much about them."

Madame Giry stepped forward and shook hands with him. "I train the girls, sir."

"And you have done a fine job. Could I meet one? I am interested as to the training programme. Has it changed much since your day?" he asked.

Madame Giry turned and waved over Meg and Christine. "I train the girls everyday. They make great strides in improving. This is my daughter, Meg Giry, and Christine Daae. Both are very talented dancers."

"Miss Giry. Miss Daae." His eyes lingered on Christine. "You are related to the violinist Daae?"

"My father, sir. He passed away many years ago."

"I am aware of that. He was an extraordinary musician." the Viscount said.

Christine smiled slightly. "Thank you, sir."

They all started as Carlotta started to shriek in indignation.

"Madame Carlotta, please. Please sing for us!" Firmin said, trying to stop the shrieking before it got out of control. Carlotta considered him and then tossed her head.

"I believe there is a fine aria that Madame Carlotta is extremely proud of. Perhaps our patron would care to hear?" André said, looking at the Viscount.

"Indeed, I would be delighted."

The three men settled themselves in the front row of chairs and looked up expectantly. Carlotta began to sing the aria. The Viscount looked rather shocked at her shrill tone but listened politely.

Suddenly there was a noise and a screen fell crashing to the stage, knocking Carlotta over. There were screams of surprise and several people rushed to help Carlotta up.

Christine and Meg stared up into the rafters. "It's him! The Phantom of Opera!" Christine said, seizing Meg's arm. They both stared up but saw nothing.

Joseph Buquet was shouting down, "There's no one there, unless it was the _ghost_!" There was some nervous laughter but it died quickly.

The two owners were tying to calm the furious Carlotta, but the diva merely stormed out of the opera house, swearing she would not sing.

Firmin and André looked at each other. "What are we going to do? We will have to refund a _full house_! We have no star!" The Viscount stepped forward.

"Isn't there someone else who could sing?"

"Christine Daae can sing." Madame Giry said quickly. Christine stared at her.

André eyed her. "A chorus girl?"

"She has been well taught. Let her sing for you."

"I don't know, Madame Giry."

"Come, monsieurs. Let the girl sing," the Viscount said. Christine swallowed hard and stood at the edge of the stage. The conductor looked up at her as the aria began to play.

Christine relaxed herself, remembering all that her master had taught her. She stood tall and let the song flow. She did not see André and Firmin's mouths fall open. She did not see Meg and Madame Giry exchanging pleased glances. She did not see the Viscount watching her closely.

She did not see her Master watching from Box 5.

She finished the song on a perfect note. After taking a second to catch her breath she turned to the three gentlemen. The Viscount was the first to speak.

"Congratulations, Miss Daae. I believe you have just earned yourself a part in the Gala."

* * *

"_You will_ _think… of me_!" Christine sang that night, at the gala. The audience got to their feet, applauding and cheering. Christine left the stage, feeling on top of the world.

Meg seized her arm. "Christine, you were incredible!"

"Thank you Meg," Christine said, hugging her best friend. Madame Giry kissed her cheek.

"You sang perfectly. And I believe the Phantom of the Opera approved." She handed her a rose. It was red and tied with a black ribbon.

Christine looked at it and then looked up with a smile. "I am tired. I think I should go and rest."

She went to the room she had been given. It was really Carlotta's but Christine had been given permission to use it for that evening. She put the rose onto the table and sat on a chair, thinking about the performance. After a moment she looked up. "Master? Are you there?"

For a moment there was no reply. And then a voice said, "I am here."

"Did you hear? Were you listening?"

"I was listening."

"Did I please you, Master?" Christine asked, anxiously.

Laugher echoed as he replied, "You pleased me greatly, Christine."

Christine relaxed, smiling. "I am glad."

There was a knock at the door. Christine looked up sharply and then answered it. The Viscount stood in the doorway. He bowed and held out a bouquet of beautiful flowers. Christine stood back to let him in, taking the flowers. She smiled.

"Thank you, sir. They are lovely."

"Only as lovely as she who holds them. You were spectacular, Miss Daae." Christine smiled again, placing the flowers on the table, next to the rose. The Viscount watched her every move carefully, his startlingly blue eyes fixed on her face.

"Thank you, Viscount."

"It is an honor to support the Opera Populaire, especially when it can boast a singer like yourself. I trust you will be singing again?"

"I do not know, sir. It all depends on Carlotta. If she returns, it is doubtless she will reclaim her position," Christine said carefully. The Viscount stepped forward and took her hand. Christine let him step closer, feeling rather uncomfortable. He raised her hand to his lips, his eyes meeting hers the entire time. Christine swallowed. The Viscount kissed her hand but did not let go.

He said, "Miss Daae, I would be honored if you would join me for supper tonight."

Christine tore her eyes away from his and then shook her head. "I am sorry, Sir. But my tutor is very strict."

"I would not keep you long," he replied.

"I am very sorry."

"Perhaps another time?" he asked.

Christine nodded. "Another time."

There was another knock at the door.

"Viscount? There is a gentleman who wishes to speak to you," said a voice.

The Viscount glanced at Christine, "I shall return in a moment."

The door closed behind him. Christine stared at it for a moment and then turned away. A thought struck her and she looked up. "Master?"

There was no reply. Christine felt fear rise in her.

"Master, please? Please, are you here?"

"Ignorant fool! Slave of fashion!" came a snarl. Christine looked around.

"Master, I am sorry."

"Not you, dear angel."

Christine gave a sigh of relief. "You will not leave me, angel?"

"Never, Christine. Never. Go to the mirror. I am always there."

Christine hesitated and then turned to look at the mirror. At first she saw only herself. And then a white mask came into view. She stepped back in surprise as the mirror slid back, revealing the figure of a man, wrapped in a black cloak, a white mask covering the right side of his face. Christine could not move. Her eyes met his. They were a stunning shade of blue-green. His dark hair was slicked back and the half of his face that she could see was beautiful. He didn't say anything but held his gloved hand out to her. She did not hesitate but placed her own hand on his.

A few minutes later the Viscount returned. He opened the door and frowned.

"Miss Daae?"

* * *

The journey was a confused muddle to Christine. She could hear beautiful music and was aware that she was traveling down but all her senses were being captured by this man. Or was he a man? He seemed more than that. Ethereal.

The boat they were riding in came to a stop. Christine shook herself and found that they had reached their destination, an underground room, lit by thousands of candles. An ancient organ was at the centre of it all. The room was decorated with thick red velvet drapes, an array of curious objects, and piles of paper, some half scrawled with musical pieces.

The man stepped off the boat and lightly onto shore. Christine watched, unsure of what to do. He removed his cloak and laid it on a surface. He removed a sword and a knife and placed them with the cloak. Christine got to her feet and stepped onto the shore. The man did not stop what he was doing, lighting more candles. Christine looked around, her eyes settling on a desk. There was an envelope, sealed with a red wax skull. She looked up at him. He was still lighting candles.

"You are the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Why do you ask if you already know?"

"I… I just wanted to make sure."

He put down the taper and turned to watch her. She moved slowly, as if in a trance. Her hands ran over the surfaces, caressed the drapes, as if making sure that they were real and that she wasn't just dreaming.

"Master?" she asked, without looking at him.

"Yes?"

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"Many things," she whispered.

Christine turned to him then, meetings his eyes across the room.

"Why did you choose me? There are many people in the opera house. And yet you chose me."

"I chose you because you alone can make my songs take flight."

"Your songs?"

He gestured towards the organ. "This is my home. It is where I create music and where I make my plans."

"Why am I here?" Christine asked.

"Because I need you here, with me. I need you to sing for me. Just for me. Not that fool of a Viscount." His tone turned bitter.

Christine frowned slightly, "I refused him, Master."

"I know you did. I was watching." He sat at the organ. Christine stepped towards him and watched as he played. His eyes were on the music in front of him. She looked at the white mask. What was beneath it, she wondered. She reached out and traced it with the tip of her finger. He stopped playing and looked up at her. She was tempted to remove the mask but he reached up and took her hand with his. He had removed his gloves and his hands were cold. Christine placed her other hand on top to try and warm him.

He moved over and she sat beside him at the organ. He played without speaking. After a moment Christine asked, "Master? Did you drop the screen on Carlotta?"

"Yes. She had too long polluted the air with her voice. It was time that someone with real talent took her place," he said, looking at her.

"I thank you for the chance to sing, but you should not have dropped the screen. You could have killed her," Christine said. He stopped playing and looked at her. She felt embarrassed and could not meet his eyes.

He got to his feet and paced the ground. He did not look at her. Eventually he said, "Sing for me."

"Sing what?"

"Whatever you wish."

So she got to her feet and sang. She closed her eyes and sang to the best of her ability. The song consumed her, and all the time she sang harder, trying to improve every note. And yet she was aware of him. He stood behind her and as she sang, he put a hand on her front, coaxing her to sing higher whilst his other hand rested on her cheek. His body was pressed against hers and that feeling made her want to sing perfectly. Eventually she could not sing anymore. She let the note go but did not open her eyes. She could feel his breath, warm on her neck. His hands were both on her waist.

"Christine…" he murmured her name. She turned slowly, looking up at him. She felt breathless and weak.

"What… is your name, angel?" she inquired under her breath. His eyes searched her face before replying.

"My name is Erik."

"Erik…" she murmured.

For several moments neither of them moved and then Christine jerked back suddenly. Erik's hands fell to his sides and he stared at her. Christine blinked and shook her head, clearing the mist that had surrounded her brain.

"I… I should go back." she said hesitantly. He looked at her with a strange expression on his face and then turned away.

"I will take you back."

"Thank you."

The journey back was done in silence. Only the sound of the water lapping at the sides of the boat was heard. They walked along the corridor to the mirror and looked through into the room. It was empty. Erik slid back the mirror and Christine entered the room. She turned but found the mirror had slid back into place and that Erik was gone. She stared at her reflection and then sank to her knees, feeling numb. Half an hour later, that was where Madame Giry found her, and put her to bed.

* * *

A week passed. It was not a happy period of time for Christine. Carlotta returned to the Opera house and had turned extremely hostile towards her. But Christine could handle that.

What she was more distressed about was the fact that in all the time there was no sign of Erik. He did not speak to her, no letters arrived, and as Carlotta had reclaimed her room, she had no way of getting to the mirror to look for him.

"Miss Daae?" Christine looked up from her seat on the steps leading to the rafters above the stage. She had been pretending to study the score but her mind was wandering constantly to Erik. The Viscount de Martinez was standing nearby. She got to her feet.

"It is a pleasure to see you again." He kissed her hand, bowing. Christine nodded.

"And you, Viscount."

"I find you well, I hope?"

"Yes sir. Yourself?"

"Better for your company. Are you in the new play?" he asked, looking at the score. Christine nodded.

"Only a small role. But I am glad to take part in the play."

"Indeed." He didn't seem particularly interested. Christine tucked her hair behind her ear, but he didn't say anything further. He seemed to be considering her.

"Are you busy at this moment?" he asked. Christine shook her head.

"I am only reading the score. We had rehearsal this morning."

"Would you accompany me for a light lunch?"

Christine searched frantically for an excuse but realized he had outmaneuvered her into admitting she had nothing to do. So she nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

* * *

He took her to a quiet restaurant near the opera house. They ordered chicken, bread and cheese, and drank a light wine. Christine found she did not have to do much as he talked most of the time. Soon silence came between them. He looked across the table at her.

"Tell me, Miss Daae, where you learnt to sing so beautifully?"

"I have a tutor. I'm afraid I don't know much about him, but he has taught me for many years."

"So long, and yet you don't know him?" The Viscount frowned. This was dangerous ground. Christine swallowed.

"His name is Monsieur Erik. I do not know where he comes from, or his past, other than he is a musician."

"Hmm. Well, he is clearly a great tutor if he trained you."

They rose and started the short walk to the opera house. The Viscount looked down at her. "Miss Daae. My Christian name is William. I would very much like it if you would refer to me as that from now on."

"Sir, I could not. It would not be proper." Christine replied. William touched her cheek.

"Then only when we are alone. Good day, Christine."

He walked away. Christine shivered, although the day was warm, and entered the opera house. The hall was empty and she walked along the narrow corridors that led to her dormitory room. And then she paused. She was positive she had heard something, as if someone in a cape had shifted slightly, rustling almost inaudibly.

"Master?" she said quietly. There was no reply. She took a step back in the direction she had come from.

"Erik? Is that you?" She asked. No one spoke.

Meg rounded a corner and saw Christine looking into the darkness of the corridor behind her. She stopped to watch her friend.

"Erik, are you there? Why will you not speak to me?" She seemed almost in tears.

Meg frowned and was about to speak when a male voice said quietly, "I am here."

Christine turned, looking for the source of the voice and finding none. She stood still and said, "Why are hiding from me? Please, don't hide in shadows."

"I cannot stay for long. I will meet you for your singing lesson as usual," said the voice. Christine nodded.

"I will be there, master."

There was no reply. Christine moved down the corridor towards Meg. Meg stepped out as if she had only just arrived.

"Christine! Where have you been?" Meg asked, greeting her friend as naturally as she could manage.

Christine looked uncomfortable. "I was having lunch with the Viscount de Martinez."

"What?"

"He found me reading my score and asked me to lunch. I accepted, through politeness, of course," Christine explained. She was not, however, about to talk about the Viscount's invitation to call him by his first name.

They walked to the dance room, where Madame Giry was playing the piano.

"You may practice," she told the girls without looking up. They changed into their dance clothes and began to stretch.

"Where did you go with the Viscount?" Meg asked. Madame Giry looked up sharply, listening but not faltering with her playing. Christine stretched her legs.

"It was only a small restaurant, a few streets away."

"What did you talk about?"

"He did most of the talking. It was mainly about the opera house and his interest in the arts," Christine replied. Meg lowered herself to the ground, doing the splits. She glanced up at her friend.

"Are you going to accompany him to a meal again?"

"I have no idea, Meg. I only went today because it would be rude to refuse," Christine replied.

Meg considered this answer and then said, "Do you think he will come to the performance next week?"

"Meg, I don't know. I don't know anything," Christine said, tired of her friend's ceaseless questioning. Meg gave her an apologetic look and then they looked over at Madame Giry for their cue to dance.

* * *

Christine arrived at the stage at 9:50. She paced the stage, humming idly. Her mind was on what she would say to Erik. For one, she wanted an explanation for his silence.

"Your scales, Christine," said Erik. She looked up and saw him standing on the opposite side of the stage.

"Erik…"

"Your scales."

"But I wanted to talk to you. Why haven't you been talking to me? I am sorry for what happened but there was no reason to ignore me."

"Your scales."

Christine stared at him and then sang obligingly. He did not move but listened. Christine hesitated and then crossed the stage. He did not move but as she came close enough to reach out and touch him he said, "Where were you this afternoon?"

"What?"

"You were with the Viscount, weren't you?" Christine looked confused.

"Well… yes, I was. Why does it matter?"

"It matters because he will interfere with your singing! I have not worked this hard to have it all ruined by some ignorant fool," Erik spat.

Christine looked at him, surprised and indignant.

"Don't be ridiculous, Erik. He won't interfere. And what do you mean _you've_ worked this hard? I have worked just as hard as you!"

"Be quiet!" Erik shouted. Christine glared at him.

"I will _not_ be quiet! You're being so stupid."

She gasped as his hand shot out and seized her wrist. His hand was cold and tightened. She flinched in pain.

"You will not see him again, do you understand?" Erik hissed. Christine glared at him and threw out her other hand, pushing him away. He released her wrist and she held it to her, the pain throbbing.

"I do not need to put up with this. You are the one who ignored me for days and now you are making demands of me, telling me how to live? I do not belong to you, Erik. I have done all that you have asked of me but I do not deserve this treatment."

Christine turned and walked out of the room, leaving Erik behind her. However, as she walked she heard his footsteps behind her. She began to run, reaching her room and slamming the door shut. She sat with her back against the door and buried her face in her hands. Her wrist throbbed painfully and she massaged it tenderly. She would have a bruise in the morning.

She tensed as she felt pressure against the door.

"Leave me alone, Erik!" she hissed.

"I will not. You asked that I always be there and I always will be. Now let me in."

"No!"

But he had forced the door open and had pushed his foot into the gap. Christine looked up as his face came around the door. She was forced forward and got to her feet. Erik swung open the door and then closed it behind him. Christine backed away from him. He did not speak but watched her for a moment. He stepped towards her. She stepped back and found herself pressed against the wall. He still moved forward until he was directly in front of her. Then he slammed his hand onto the wall, making her jump. He had now pinned her against the wall. His turquoise eyes glared into her brown ones.

"How does it feel, Christine? How does it feel to be trapped?"

She didn't reply. She was trying to look defiant but knew that he could sense her fear. He removed one hand from the wall and caressed her face with it. She couldn't help flinching although he hadn't hurt her.

"I will give you everything I have Christine. But in return you must do what I ask. Do not go with the Viscount again. That is all I ask of you," he told her quietly. She looked up, meeting his eyes. They bore no anger now.

She whispered, "I did not go with him today because I wished to. All the while I was thinking what you would think. Remember that, Erik."

He stared at her for a moment and then left the room with a swish of his cape. Christine sank to the floor, resting her head on her arms. After a while she climbed into bed but it was a long time before she slept.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

The Viscount William de Martinez attended the rehearsal the next day. He sat a few rows back, his ankle resting on the knee of his opposite leg, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, the hand of the same arm supporting his chin as he watched the cast on the stage. Carlotta was making a fuss over something or the other, but William's eyes were fixed on the figure located to the far left of the stage.

Christine Daae waited patiently for the diva to finish her tantrum so they could continue the rehearsal. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She was clearly tired but determined to practice.

Carlotta strutted off the stage and the two owners went hurrying after her. The conductor turned to Christine.

"Miss Daae? Your main song, if you please." William's head moved slightly as he pricked his ears to hear her.

She stood in the centre-front of the stage and waited for her cue. Her voice rang clearly through the theatre, causing people to look up in wonder. She always had this effect; her voice was a thing of pure beauty. She finished the song and looked down at the conductor for a verdict.

He smiled at her. "Perfect, Miss Daae, as usual."

She smiled and thanked him before stepping lightly off the stage. Her hair had been tied back due to the heat of the theatre, but she let it free now, allowing the curls to tumble down her back as she entered the entrance hall. William was about to go and talk to her when Madame Giry entered and gave her a letter. She took it nervously and waited for Madame Giry to leave before unfolding it and reading.

William watched her face, searching for a reaction to the letter. She read it blankly at first. Then her eyebrows rose and a slight smile crossed her face. William approached her, but she did not notice; she was so absorbed in the letter.

"Miss Daae." he said politely. She looked up sharply, surprised at the interruption.

"Oh, Viscount! You startled me."

"My apologies. I hope it is good news?" He gestured towards the letter. She folded it and tucked it into her pocket.

"Yes, it is. From my tutor."

"Things are not going wrong?"

"No. We had a brief disagreement but have sorted out our differences," she said.

William smiled. "Then he won't object if I take you to dinner tonight?"

The smile faded from her face.

"I am afraid I cannot. My tutor insists that I must not be distracted. It interferes with my singing, you see."

"I am a distraction, Miss Daae?"

"I fear that you may become one," Christine replied.

William smirked. "Miss Daae, one dinner can hardly be called a distraction."

"I am very sorry, Viscount."

"As am I, Miss Daae. But one day I _will_ take you to dinner, tutor or no tutor." He promised her. She smiled politely and nodded.

A blonde dancer ran up to Christine and stopped as she saw the Viscount. Christine turned to her.

"What is it, Meg?"

"The Phantom of the Opera! He has sent a letter to the owners! They are about to announce something!"

They followed her back into the theatre room. Firmin and André were looking incredibly uncomfortable. Carlotta was huffing by the side of the stage.

"Everyone, we have had a message from the… the Opera Ghost. He is insisting that there be some changes to the cast of the opera," Firmin said. Everyone started to talk anxiously and Carlotta was looking very peeved.

André hesitated and then said, "Miss Daae will be replaced by Elaine Chaney." A girl gasped as her name was announced. Christine's mouth fell open, and she stepped forward to protest.

"And… Madam Carlotta's part will be played by… by Miss Daae."

Carlotta and Christine both gaped at him.

Carlotta got her voice back first. "And myself? Who am I to play, according to this _Opera Ghost_?" she demanded shrilly. The owners looked at each other.

"He demands that you play… the peasant girl."

"_THE SILENT ROLE!_" Carlotta screamed. She pointed at Christine. "That… that… is to be playing _my_ role?"

"We have only a few days until the opera opens! Why is he changing it?" Christine asked.

Firmin shrugged helplessly, "The Opera Ghost is insisting. And we would refuse had he not made… had he not made certain threats. Besides, Madam Carlotta, André and I were thinking that it's time you were able to relax. We have booked you a week in a country hotel, so you may prepare yourself for the next show."

Everyone could tell that Carlotta was torn: a week away from the opera house in leisure, or allowing Christine to take _her_ part.

The diva's greediness won. "Fine. I will take the week off. But when I return I am taking the main part!" She strutted off the stage.

Christine looked at the two owners. "What did he threaten you with?" she asked.

André shook his head. "No, Miss Daae. It is better that you did not know. Now, you should start rehearsing your new part."

Christine leaned against the stage, running her hands through her hair in desperation. William touched her shoulder.

"Congratulations, Miss Daae. You will perform wonderfully." She didn't reply. She was staring into air, frowning slightly. Meg shook her arm gently.

"Christine? What is the matter?"

"This isn't right…" Christine muttered. She suddenly realized that everyone was looking at her and shook herself.

The conductor looked rather helpless. "Well… I suppose we should rehearse."

* * *

Christine was slightly late to her lesson that afternoon. She threw open the door at ten past ten and saw Erik waiting for her.

"What did you say to the managers? Why did you threaten them?" she demanded.

"And a good evening to you," Erik said without looking up from a score that he was reading.

Christine climbed onto the stage. "Erik, you can't just make demands like this!"

"I don't know why you are complaining. It is all for you."

"I know, and I am grateful but… but surely I should _earn_ a part in the opera."

Erik finally looked at her. He stood over her. She folded her arms, waiting for a reply.

"Christine, you _have_ earned your part. You should have been given the lead a long time ago. I merely cleared the path for you."

"Carlotta…"

"Exactly. Now, do your scales," he ordered.

She began to sing but he stopped her.

"Stop. You are too tense."

"Of course I'm tense. I've got three days to learn the entire score," she said, somewhat irritably.

"Then let us practice it. But first, scales."

They practiced for two hours. When they had finished Erik asked, "Did Madame Giry give you my letter?"

"Yes. And I am also sorry. We both said things we did not mean," Christine said, looking at her feet.

Erik paused and then said, "And the Viscount?"

"He asked me to dinner but I refused."

"Good."

"Erik… you won't hurt anyone will you?"

He looked up. She was watching him nervously. He straightened and looked down at her.

"Why do you ask?"

"You threatened the managers. You dropped the screen on Carlotta. And last night… you hurt me," Christine said, twisting her hands. Erik closed his eyes.

"Christine, I would _never_ hurt you intentionally. Last night was an accident."

"What about Carlotta, and the managers?"

"For them… I make no promises," Erik told her truthfully.

Christine looked down. Erik lifted her chin with his gloved hand.

"Christine, I need you to understand."

"I don't think I can. I want to Erik, I truly do. But I just can't," she murmured. Erik stroked her cheek and she closed her eyes.

"Christine… my angel…" he whispered. His face was so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her skin.

And suddenly he pulled back. She opened her eyes and found he was gone.

She spun around, confused. "Erik?"

"Miss Daae? What are you doing here at this time?" It was the Viscount.

She blinked and then spoke, "Viscount… what are you doing here?"

"I believe I asked you first," he said, smirking.

Christine looked behind her, still searching for Erik. "I was… I was practicing."

"At midnight?" he asked.

"The best time. Everything is peaceful," Christine pointed out. "Why are you here?"

"I was in a meeting with Firmin and André. It overran slightly," he said with a smile. Christine was still looking around. William frowned.

"Who are you searching for?"

She jumped. "No one. I mean… I thought I heard someone."

"It is just us, Christine," he said, walking towards her.

"I suppose you're right," she said, frowning. Erik must have heard William coming.

William stood beside her. "What were you practicing?"

"The opera. I have only a few days to learn Carlotta's part."

"It appears that this Opera Ghost is fond of you," William said with a smile. Christine didn't reply. William pressed on. "I can understand why." His hand rested on her shoulder. "Christine, you love to sing, don't you?"

"Of course."

"As patron of the Opera Populaire, I can guarantee you parts. I can ensure you the best lifestyle there is. I can guarantee you a lifetime of pleasure and luxury," William said, standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders. He whispered in her ear, "I can give you everything you've ever _dreamed_ of, Christine. Anything and everything that you want, I can give you in a moment."

Christine stared straight ahead. "And what would you ask in return?" she asked quietly, although she already knew.

William laughed softly. "All I ask for is you. That you be mine and no one else's. A small price to pay for eternal comfort, wouldn't you say?" His lips brushed against her shoulder.

Christine turned to face him. "I have to go. I have rehearsal in the morning and must rest."

He looked surprised but a smug smile replaced that expression almost instantly. "Indeed. Go and rest. I shall see you tomorrow."

Christine didn't reply but walked away as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. William watched with a satisfied smile.

* * *

Christine went to Carlotta's room, which was hers until the diva returned. She locked the door behind her, fearing that William would follow her. She backed away from the door, and found to her surprise that she was shaking. She sat down and took several steadying breaths. Then she glanced over at the mirror. "Erik? Are you there?"

There was no reply. Christine licked her lips. "Please, Erik. Talk to me." But Erik was not behind the glass. Christine climbed into bed, not bothering to brush away the bitter tears that fell from her eyes.

* * *

Rehearsal the next day went well. It was the first time they had had a rehearsal without Carlotta throwing a tantrum and they all performed better for it. Christine sang almost without paying attention. William was sitting with Firmin and André in the front row. William had a smug smirk on his face and Christine couldn't bear to look at him. Monsieur Reyer caught her attention.

"Miss Daae, could you try that line again?"

She obeyed and Monsieur Reyer nodded.

"Thank you. Madame Giry, I believe we are finished for now." Madame Giry nodded and dismissed the girls. Firmin, André and William went onto the stage, meeting with Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry.

"I must say, Miss Daae, you are doing remarkably well with the time you have." André said as Christine passed.

She paused and smiled. "Thank you, monsieur. Excuse me."

William turned to watch her as she left the room alone. Madame Giry eyed him and then turned away, worry filling her face.

Christine sat in her room. One of the chorus girls had brought her a meal of soup and bread and she ate without feeling hungry or even really tasting the food. She looked up as there was a knock on the door. Meg came in with a letter.

"It's from the Viscount de Martinez," she said. Christine frowned and opened the letter.

_My dearest Christine,_

_ It has come to my attention that there is to be a masquerade ball in a fortnight's time from Saturday. I would be greatly honored if you would accompany me to this event, and if you would join me for dinner tomorrow night. _

_William de Martinez_

"He's in the theatre, expecting an answer," Meg said. Christine sighed and took a piece of paper.

_To the Viscount de Martinez,_

_I regret that I will not be able to attend dinner tomorrow night, as my tutor has strictly forbidden it. I shall, however, be attending the masquerade ball as my presence is required. I shall accompany you to the ball._

_Christine Daae_

"Give him this," Christine said. Meg nodded and then paused.

"Christine? Are you alright? You do not seem very happy."

"I am fine. I did not sleep well," Christine replied, smiling at her friend. Meg nodded, though clearly not satisfied with the answer, and left.

Christine turned back to her meal but there was another knock at the door and Madame Giry entered.

"Christine, we need to talk," she said, sitting with Christine at the table. Madame Giry looked at her closely. "Are you courting the Viscount de Martinez?" she asked frankly.

Christine stared at her, horrified. "No! Of course not!"

"He is very keen on you. Did he ask you to the ball?"

"Yes, and I accepted. But not because I wish to become involved. I am hoping that he will get bored with me."

"I know of the Viscount, Christine. He has a reputation. He likes to conquer women and will not give up," Madame Giry warned.

Christine got to her feet and paced the room. "Madame Giry, I do not want his attentions. I did not ask for them. If I tell him that I am not interested, surely he will accept that. He is a gentleman," she said.

"I am not so sure that will work. But it is your choice."

She went to the door and looked back at Christine, "But I am not so sure that the Phantom will understand. You should be prepared for that."

* * *

The opera was very well received by the opera lovers of Paris. Christine was delighted to find a single red rose tied with a black ribbon in her room after she had performed. Erik had not contacted her for nearly a week and she had missed him sorely.

She put the rose into a small glass vase and unpinned her elaborately decorated hair. The brown curls fell down, framing her face. She brushed them back out of the way and looked up as there was a knock on the door.

"Miss Daae?" The Viscount. Christine hesitated and then opened the door. He smiled, handing her a bouquet of pink roses.

"You were perfection itself, this evening."

"Thank you, Viscount."

"I am very pleased that you have agreed to accompany me to the ball next week. It will be a wonderful evening."

"Indeed, Viscount," she agreed, placing the roses into a vase next to the flower left by the Phantom.

William's eyes fell on it. "And who is this from?" he asked. Christine looked over and then turned back to filling vases to hold the many flowers she had received.

"It is from my tutor. He sends me a rose if I have pleased him," she explained.

William raised an eyebrow. "Just one rose?"

"Yes. But if I receive one, it makes me feel happy because I know that I have pleased him. That one rose from him means so much more than if he sent me a thousand," she said, putting flowers into the vases.

William looked around the room and his eyes fell on the mirror. Christine paused to watch him.

"It makes the room seem much bigger. I suppose that is why Carlotta has it," she said.

"I suppose so."

She finished arranging the flowers and turned to him.

He smiled. "Christine, I would love for you to come to supper. And you can't tell me that you have to practice tonight."

"I am sorry. I am very tired from the performance," she said. He caught her hand and tugged her slightly so she was close to him. She looked up at his handsome face. He was smiling.

"Come now, Christine. I shan't keep you long." His face was very close to hers now.

"I cannot…"

"Then we shall eat here. I shall call for food and drink," he said, his hands running over her arms and back, his lips brushing her collarbone.

"Viscount-"

"Call me William," he whispered, kissing her neck. Christine frowned, wanting to pull away. But he was holding her tightly to him.

"Please… please don't… I am tired," she muttered. He stopped and brought his head back to look her in the face.

"Very well. As you wish, Miss Daae. However, after the ball we shall take supper here. But for now, you shall sleep," he said quietly. Then he pushed his lips to hers for a moment before turning to leave the room. Christine hurried to the door and locked it to stop him coming back. Then she rested her back against the door, eyes closed.

Someone knocked on the door but Christine ignored it, sitting back down at the table. There was another knock and Meg called out, "Christine? There are more flowers here for you."

Christine didn't reply. She took the single red rose in her hands and was running the black ribbon between her fingers. Meg didn't knock again. Christine supposed that she thought she was asleep. She put the rose back in the vase and rested her head in her hands.

"I should kill him for touching you."

She didn't look up. She had heard the mirror slide and knew that Erik was standing by the glass. She did not look up or speak. Erik put a hand on her shoulder. "Christine…"

"Where have you been? Not a word in nearly a week…" Christine asked, angry with him. Erik looked down at her.

"I have been busy. I am sorry."

"You were listening tonight?"

"Of course. You were excellent. _Perfection itself_," he said, mocking the words that William had used.

Christine looked up sharply. "How much did you see?"

"All of it."

"Erik, I swear that I have done nothing to lead him on," she said, her voice slightly panicky.

"I am aware of that, my angel. And yet you agreed to accompany him to the masquerade ball." His voice was chilly. Christine got to her feet, pacing the length of the room, hands tangled in her hair.

"I thought that if I agreed he would grow tired of me."

"No one could grow tired of you, my dear," Erik said, watching her closely. She turned to him.

"Erik, I am tired. I want to sleep."

"Then I shall let you sleep," he said. He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. Then he traced her lips with his finger.

"Yet I regret that he was the first to claim your lips."

He went to the mirror and went through. Christine stared after him and then went to her bed. She really was tired but she had also wanted to be alone.

* * *

The day of the ball arrived. Christine had stayed in Carlotta's room, as Firmin and André had had a new one made especially for their diva.

The luxurious week's holiday had done nothing to sweeten the soprano's temper. Christine ignored the diva's tantrums. She attended her singing lessons nightly and had been avoiding the Viscount like the plague. So far she had managed, but tonight was the masquerade ball. Madame Giry had not even tried to get the ballet girls to practice. Everyone was too excited.

Whilst the higher members of the cast would be enjoying the event from the grand hall of the opera house, the lower members would be holding their own celebrations in the training rooms. No doubt it would be without the finery of the ball but Christine was sure it would be more enjoyable. Somehow everyone had found out that she would be attending with the Viscount and more than one girl had exclaimed their jealousy.

"He is _so_ handsome!"

"You are lucky, Christine!"

She did not feel so lucky as she and Meg dressed. Meg was wearing a pretty dress of white lace and had a mask in the shape of a white and silver butterfly. She giggled, turning around to make the skirts of the dress fly about. Christine couldn't help smiling at her friend.

"You look so pretty, Meg!"

"But look at you! That dress is so beautiful." Christine looked down at her own outfit. It _was_ beautiful. Pale pink, with roses embroidered over it. It had been a gift from the viscount. Meg had finished her by styling her hair and tucking tiny pink flowers into the dark curls.

"You look so lovely, Christine. Where is your mask?"

"On the desk," Christine said. Meg fetched it. It was a simple one, pink with the outline of silver flowers and it fitted her face from her eyebrows to her mouth.

Meg clapped her hands. "Perfect!"

Christine smiled and looked over at the desk where a red rose lay. She ran her finger over it and then placed it in the usual glass vase. Meg looked at it.

"From your tutor?"

"Yes. I wasn't expecting one today. He usually sends them when I have sung." Meg looked at the flower thoughtfully and then her face lit up.

"Maybe he will be at the ball!"

"I shouldn't think so, Meg. My tutor doesn't care for crowds," Christine said truthfully.

* * *

Christine hesitated outside the door to the ballroom. She was sorely tempted to return to her room but she was here now. Meg had gone to find her mother. Christine looked at the door and then turned away.

"Leaving already?" William's voice said. Christine turned and saw him on the stairs. He was wearing eveningwear, dark blue in color. His face was covered with a blue mask. Christine held her own mask in her hands. William took it and placed it on her face.

"Beautiful. That dress looks like it was made for you." She began to thank him but he waved it away.

"It's nothing. Come, I insist on having the first dance."

He took Christine's arm and guided her into the ballroom. She felt like a trophy, dressed up to attract attention. More than one man turned to watch her pass. Carlotta gave her a look like a dagger before turning away in disgust. Christine kept her eyes on the ground. William took her to the center of the dance floor as the music started. Christine danced without saying a word. She was looking around at the mask whirling past. She spotted Meg and one of the stagehands talking animatedly and a smile touched her lips.

William danced with her for three dances before he was claimed by Carlotta for a dance. Christine pushed her way through the crowd to the edge of the room where she sipped at a cool drink. The room was unbearably warm. She put the drink down and looked around. Everyone was either dancing or chatting. Christine longed to escape the heated room to find some silence.

The music faded and the conductor said, "Next will be the _Lovers Dance_." Everyone started to pair off. To her relief, Carlotta had seized a dismayed William's arm again.

She did not expect to find a partner, and yet, as she glanced up, her eyes met with someone's. He was dressed in black and red, with a black mask. He crossed the space between them and held out his gloved hand. Christine did not hesitate but took it and he led her to the dance floor. One of his hands rested gently on her waist and the other was claiming her other hand.

Christine looked up at his masked face and examined his blue-green eyes. A smile crossed her face. Erik. They started to dance.

Neither of them acknowledged anything besides each other, so neither of them heard the whispers that followed them. They did not see the stares from their fellow dancers. They did not know that William was casting them a deadly glare.

Christine kept her eyes locked on Erik's. He guided her in dance, watching her closely. She was about to speak but he shook his head slightly, a tiny smile on his lips. Christine nodded, understanding. So they danced in silence.

The dance came to an end all too soon. They had somehow ended up in the very center of the dance floor. It was customary at the end of the _Lovers Dance_ to kiss the woman's hand. Erik took her hand and kissed it gently. Then he moved forward and kissed her mouth. Christine couldn't move, she was so surprised. Erik stepped back, bowed and then disappeared before their eyes.

Christine blinked and stared at the spot where he had been standing. Then she looked up and saw that everyone was staring at her, even the musicians. She touched her lips gently with a finger and then turned to leave the ballroom. Everyone moved out of her way as she walked, dazed from the room. As soon as the doors closed the chatter started, everyone discussing the event.

Christine leant against the banister end at the bottom of the stairs, trying to stop her mind from reeling. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Erik's lips against hers. She couldn't help smiling, but she jumped as the door to the ballroom opened. She spun around. William stood in the doorway, looking furious.

"Who is he?" he demanded. Christine shook her head.

"I don't-"

"Of course you know! Men don't go around kissing strange women in balls, Christine. Now who is he?"

Christine stared at him. He had pulled of his mask and it was getting crushed in his hand. He didn't seem to have noticed. She searched desperately for an explanation.

"I… it was my tutor…"

"Your tutor! This… this Erik?"

"Yes." Williams face contorted in anger.

"When I meet this Erik he will be severely punished for his actions."

Christine didn't reply. She knew it was highly unlikely that William would ever find Erik but she wasn't about to make him think that she knew where to find him. William looked down at her.

"Go to your room. I will join you presently."

Christine didn't know what to do. She started to walk slowly to her room. She let herself in and found Erik waiting for her. She hesitated and then closed the door, putting her mask onto the table.

"You have to leave. The Viscount is furious, and he'll be here any minute."

"Furious, is he?" Erik seemed quite pleased. Christine frowned.

"Erik, please. He's a dangerous man."

"So am I, Christine." He made no effort to leave. Christine looked at him as she unpinned her hair. Flowers fell to the ground as her hair fell down, curling around her face.

"Please… don't do anything. Just go. He's going to be here in a moment and if he finds you, he'll hurt you."

"Christine, he is not worthy of you. And you do not care for him. I will not allow him to act this way," Erik told her firmly.

Christine closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

"Erik, just go."

"Do you want me to?" he said, moving towards her.

She looked at him.

"Yes."

He cupped her face with his hand and she found herself pressing her cheek towards it.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked again. Christine longed to say no but she heard footsteps from the corridor and snapped her eyes open.

"Go. Now." He looked at her for a moment and then vanished through the mirror. Christine looked at the mirror and then jumped as the door opened. The Viscount entered.

"You look startled," he commented. She opened her mouth to reply but found she had nothing to say. William stepped towards her, treading on the pink flowers. Christine found herself frozen to the spot.

"Christine… you were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight," he said, brushing her hair away from her shoulder. He removed his jacket. Christine kept her eyes on the floor. She had to stop this. She didn't want…

He was kissing her now, one hand on her back, the other running through her hair. Christine squeezed her eyes shut, not letting the tears escape. His lips were everywhere, kissing her face and her neck; he was unbuttoning his shirt, unfastening her dress…

She had to stop it…

"Christine…" he moaned, pushing her towards the bed.

She had to…

"No," she gasped. He stopped and jerked his head back, looking at her. She met his eyes and he saw fear there. He stared down at her, where she lay, trembling.

"What do you mean 'no'?" he asked, dangerously. She couldn't speak. He climbed off the bed and straightened himself. He looked at her coldly. She managed to sit up but before she could get to her feet he started to talk in a dangerously quiet tone.

"Christine, are you aware of who I am? I am the Viscount de Martinez. Without my money your precious _Opera Populaire_ would close forever. Is that what you want?"

She shook her head, not daring to speak. He continued to look down at her.

"I am a man of high standards, Christine. I know what I want, and if I want something I have it. Do you understand? I do not accept '_no_'."

He reached down and seized her by the hair, pulling her up. She cried aloud as pain stung her scalp.

William pulled her face close to his and hissed, "You belong to _me_, Christine Daae. To me and only me. Do not forget that."

"No!" she whimpered. He struck her across the face. She fell against a wall, scraping her skin against the stone. He pulled her up again, by her arm and pulled her out into the main room, with the mirror.

"You are mine!" he shouted, striking her again. She fell to the ground and did not get up again. He seized her, pulling her up to him.

"I am going away tomorrow, to see a business colleague. When I return, in three days time, I will come to you again. And this time, let us hope you have learned some manners. If you have not, you will be taught a lesson. If you refuse me again I will destroy your precious Opera House," he spat at her. Christine had no strength left. He threw her to the ground and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Christine lay on the floor, gasping and sobbing. Her head was spinning with the blows and there was blood trickling down her face onto the pink dress. She swallowed hard. She had to get out of here. She had to find Erik.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

The journey was not easy. She managed to open and close the mirror, stumbling along the corridor. She tripped at the slope and rolled down, coming to rest next to the water. The blood fell into her eyes and she clawed it away desperately.

Christine fell along the walkways leading to Erik's home. Soon the stone ended and she was left to wade through the murky expanse of water. More than once she fell and struggled up, choking for air.

There! The gateway. She fell towards it and saw Erik sitting at the organ, writing on a piece of parchment. She tried to call for him but her voice sounded pathetically weak. She tried again.

"_Erik_…"

He looked up, thinking he had imagined it. She called again and this time he turned.

His eyes widened at the sight of the girl clinging desperately to the gate, her face coated with blood and soaked through. But within a moment he had pulled the gate up and was rushing to her aid. He carried her ashore and she leaned against him, sobbing uncontrollably. He could see bruises starting to form on her face and neck but did not comment. He wrapped her in a blanket and held her weeping figure to him. After a while she fell silent but he knew from her ragged breathing she was not sleeping.

"Did the Viscount do this to you?" he asked.

She replied softly, "Yes."

Anger seized Erik, the kind of anger which he had never before known. He held her tighter.

"I will kill him," he said quietly.

"No… no, Erik you can't," she whispered. He looked down and saw her staring at him with fearful eyes. "Erik, he's going to close the Opera House if I refuse him again. Without a patron… we'll never stay open. It's too much to lose." She sat up and wiped her eyes, flinching as she caught the gash. He got up and fetched a bowl of clean water and a piece of cloth. He started to wipe the blood away. She didn't move. He was so gentle, and there was no sign of the fury he had been experiencing moments before.

He dried her and then said, "He cannot have you."

"I don't want to be with him, Erik. But I have no choice."

"Of course you have a choice. As soon as he's had you he will become bored. You do not deserve that," he said, looking at her closely. She looked at him as if he were mad.

"I can't refuse him. Look what he did to me. He would beat me to within an inch of my life if I refused him again."

She fell silent, staring at him. Then she put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes tightly. He put his arms around her tentatively.

"Christine… Christine…"

"The Opera House is everything to me, Erik. It is my home. It is important to everyone who lives there. I cannot be so selfish as to cause it to close."

"Christine…" he only said her name. Nothing else.

"It is your home, Erik. It is _your_ home."

Neither of them spoke. Then Christine looked up at him.

"Why did you come to the ball tonight?"

He was surprised at the question and then smiled. "Is it too much to have a dance with my angel?"

"And the kiss?"

"That, my darling, was unplanned," he told her. Christine gave a weak smile and then yawned. She covered her mouth, ashamed.

He got to his feet. "Come. You must sleep."

He took her to the bedroom. She looked at the swan-shaped bed and smiled. Erik looked at her curiously. "What?"

"It's just so… you." He raised an eyebrow and left her to sleep.

* * *

She did not sleep well. She tossed and turned, crying out more than once. When she awoke a few hours later, she was to find Erik by her side, holding a cup of tea. 

"Drink. It will help to calm you."

"Erik, you know that I have to go back." He looked away.

"I know. I will take you."

"Thank you." She said softly. He looked up at her.

"What will you tell them about the injuries?"

"I fell down the stairs. It is often done. No one will question it."

"And when the Viscount returns?" Erik asked. Christine hesitated.

"I don't know… I can't let him close the Opera house, Erik, I can't."

He didn't speak for some time. Christine couldn't look at him. He stood.

"Come. I will take you back. It is almost time for rehearsals."

* * *

When Christine entered the theatre two hours later Madame Giry was the first to see her. She abandoned the ballet girls and rushed to her, horrified at the cuts and bruises. 

"Christine, what has happened?"

"I… I fell down the stairs, that's all," Christine said weakly. She realized how terrible she must look and bowed her head to try and hide the injuries. Firmin and André approached her.

"Miss Daae?"

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really. I fell down the stairs last night, it was just clumsiness. They will heal soon," Christine said, smiling as charmingly as she could.

Carlotta made a snide comment but no one laughed.

Monsieur Reyer said, "Miss Daae, if you would sing your main part?" Carlotta started to shriek but Christine went onto the stage anyway and waited for her cue. She saw the chorus girls pointing at her and gossiping quietly. But she did not speak to them.

* * *

After rehearsals she returned to her room to bathe the wounds. They were still very sore and she rubbed creams into them to soothe the pain. 

There was a knock at the door and Madame Giry came in. "I have brought you some lotion," she said, placing a bottle on the table.

Christine smiled. "Thank you, Madame."

Madame Giry eyed her and then sat down. "You did not fall down the stairs, did you Christine?"

"Of course I did. Where else would I acquire these injuries?" Christine said calmly.

"I am not sure. All I know is that the Viscount de Martinez left last night in a foul mood and you did not leave your room all night." Madame Giry said. Christine did not look up.

"What are you suggesting Madame Giry?" she said carefully.

The older woman sat beside her would-be daughter and said, "I am suggesting, without looking for confirmation or denial, that the Viscount lost his temper with you."

"Madame, I…" Christine could not lie. Not to her. Not to the woman who had been like a mother to her for so many years. She looked up at her.

"Madame, if I do not do as he wishes he will close the Opera House."

"You denied him last night?"

"I did. He… he did this to me and said that when he returned he would come to me again. If I deny him again he will close the Opera House."

"Last night… after he hurt you, where did you go?" Madame Giry asked. Christine looked away.

"I… I went to Erik. But nothing happened, Madame, I swear it."

Madame Giry suddenly looked very old and tired. Christine looked at her again.

"Madame Giry, I don't know what to do. I can't… I can't give myself to the Viscount, but I can't let him close the Opera House either. It is home to too many people. It is home to you, to _Erik_."

"Christine, I will help you. But listen to me… you must not let Erik get involved. If he does, it could be disastrous."

"I will try not to let him, Madame."

"Good. Now clean those wounds," Madame Giry said, standing up and leaving.

Christine rubbed the lotion into her flesh and winced as it stung. She looked up suddenly and said,

"Erik, you heard her. Please don't get involved. It will do no good for anyone."

"And I should just let him get away with it?" Erik snarled from the mirror.

"He won't… I'll… I'll figure it out. But promise me you won't do anything?" she pleaded.

Erik looked down at her, where she sat. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Christine… I cannot promise that. If it gets to a point where I feel interference is necessary, I will."

Christine didn't look up. She stared down at the table and then turned to him, standing.

"Erik, I need you. If you got hurt I would be truly alone and I couldn't bear that."

"I will never leave you, my darling angel. Never…" he promised, stepping towards her. His arms slipped around her and she hugged him back, pressing her face to his shoulder.

"Don't leave me, Erik. Please," she whispered.

"Never. Never..." he murmured.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were filling with tears. "Erik?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"I… if you want me… I belong to you. And only you."

He closed his eyes. All he had ever wanted, she was now offering. And yet he could not bring himself to say yes.

"Christine, do not say that. You are tired and unwell. Get some rest." He pulled from her grasp and turned away. Christine stared after him and he stepped through the mirror.

But before he could slide the glass back into place she called, "I know my own heart, Erik. There is only room for you. When you are ready, I will be waiting. I promise you that." He looked into her eyes and then slid the glass back into place, leaving her sight. Christine gazed at the mirror and then went to her bed.

* * *

The next two days were ruined with the knowledge that the Viscount would be returning. Madame Giry did not mention their conversation to Christine, but the morning of the day that the Viscount was due to return, Christine saw her take Firmin and André to their office and close the door. She waited nearby, wanting to find out what was being discussed. 

After some time Madame Giry emerged, looking furious. She caught sight of Christine and turned away, unable to look at her. André caught sight of the girl and beckoned to her. Hesitantly, Christine stepped forward.

"A word, Miss Daae?" she sat in a chair in front of a desk. André and Firmin looked at her carefully. Christine met their gaze.

"Miss Daae, Madame Giry believes that you and our patron have been having… problems." Firmin began delicately. Christine didn't reply.

"I am aware that the Viscount has certainly expressed his fondness for you, but Madame Giry told us that he has been… hurting you. That those injuries you received were from him. Is this true?" André asked. Christine swallowed hard.

"Yes, monsieur. The Viscount did injure me."

"Intentionally?"

Christine bowed her head, a lump rising in her throat. The Viscount's threat rang in her head.

_I will destroy your precious Opera House…_

"No. Not intentionally." She jumped to her feet. "Please monsieurs, don't mention this to the Viscount. It is all a misunderstanding. Excuse me." She ran out of the room before they could comment. Madame Giry was waiting outside but Christine didn't stop. She kept running until she was outside the Opera House's front doors. She hurried down the steps, clutching her arms around her. It was cold and she had not thought to bring a cloak.

She wandered the streets surrounding the Opera House, not realizing where she was going but desperate to keep walking, to avoid returning to the theatre. But before she realized what she was doing she found herself outside the doors to the Opera House again.

Christine felt her heart sink. No matter how far she ran she still ended up back here. She turned quickly as she heard a carriage entering the square in front of the theatre. A face looked out of the window and she realized that it was the Viscount. Her heart leapt into her mouth as he leapt out. Praying he had not seen her, she attempted to slip back inside.

"Miss Daae!" he called, and she hesitated.

"Viscount de Martinez."

"Take the carriage, Francois," he commanded to the driver before turning to look down at her. His eyes fell upon the bruises and cuts but she saw no regret in his eyes.

"Rehearsals are finished?"

"For today," she replied quietly.

"Then why are you out here with no protection from the cold?" he asked. Christine swallowed.

"I was… walking," she said weakly.

The viscount removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders, guiding her up the steps to the Opera House. When they went through the doors, they found Meg, Madame Giry, André and Firmin talking urgently. They all stopped as the pair entered.

"Viscount de Martinez! We were not expecting you back so early," Firmin said. Madame Giry looked at Christine who avoided her eyes.

"Christine, come. Monsieur Reyer wishes to rehearse your song." Christine slipped the coat off and handed it silently to the Viscount who watched her leave, with a smirk playing about his lips. Christine nodded to the managers and followed Meg and Madame Giry to the theatre room.

* * *

Monsieur Reyer had never seen Christine so distracted. 

"No, Miss Daae, you missed the cue _again_!" he cried in frustration. Christine looked up and blinked.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur."

"From the beginning please." But he was interrupted by the arrival of the managers and the Viscount. Christine tensed and averted her eyes. They fell on Box 5 where she saw the outline of a person. The figure turned and she caught a glimpse of a white mask. Erik. He looked down at her and nodded.

She inclined her head slightly and then said, "Monsieur Reyer? Shall we?"

"Very well, Miss Daae," he said, clearly not expecting much from her. Christine put her eyes back on Erik's and waited for the music.

This time her voice rang clearly through the theatre. Monsieur Reyer couldn't help smiling. The Viscount gazed at her as her voice flooded the room, filling the air with that luxurious sound. But she wasn't looking back at him. He frowned and followed her eye line upwards. She was looking at one of the boxes, a smile gracing her mouth. He tapped Firmin's shoulder.

"Which box is that?"

"Box 5, Viscount."

"I shall have that box at the next performance. When is that?"

"In three weeks, but that box… we do not rent it," Firmin replied.

"Why not?"

"It belongs to the Phantom of the Opera."

The Viscount chuckled. "Then it is time to take the box back, don't you think? I shall sit there in three weeks."

* * *

When Christine got to her room that night, she immediately locked the door. She knew the Viscount would come, but that didn't mean she was going to give in that easily. She undressed quickly, pulling on a nightdress and climbing into bed. She pulled the covers around her tightly and closed her eyes. 

Some time later there was a knock at the door and the Viscount's voice rang out.

"Miss Daae?"

Christine's eyes flew to the handle. It turned and rattled. "Christine, open the door." She closed her eyes tightly. There was another rattle and then a click. Her heart skipped a beat. He had a key to her rooms.

She leveled her breathing and kept her eyes closed. She heard him approach the bed and heard his soft breathing. His hand brushed against her cheek, touching one of the bruises he had given her. She made a quiet noise, as if she were dreaming, and rolled over, away from his touch.

"Christine?" he said quietly. She didn't stir. To her dismay he didn't leave, but settled into a chair by the bed. She felt his eyes on her the whole time, but soon sleep overcame her and she drifted away.

* * *

She awoke some hours later. She sat up and reached for a glass of water. But she gasped when she saw the figure sitting in the chair. In her sleepy state she had completely forgotten he was there. She clutched a hand to her chest, trying to slow her fast beating heart. 

"She awakes," the Viscount said with a little chuckle. Christine didn't move. She was using all of her will to prevent herself from shaking. She reached slowly for the glass of water and sipped it.

"What… what time is it?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not sure. Early morning. I only woke up myself a few minutes ago."

"When did you get here?"

"Last night. You were already sleeping."

"But… I locked the door," Christine said, as he got to his feet and went to light a lamp. The flame flared, shattering the darkness.

His face turned to her. "I am aware of that. I acquired a key. But tell me Christine… have you had time to think about my offer?"

Christine climbed out bed and went to the window. It was snowing again. She stared out at the pure white world below.

"If I give you what I want… you will allow the Opera House to stay open?"

"I shall."

"Why me? Why not one of the other girls?" Christine asked. She wasn't sure how she found the daring to say it but she managed.

William laughed as he crossed the room to stand behind her. His hands rested gently on her hips.

"None of those girls can compare to you, Christine. Not one of them comes close. No girl could."

"You have had many girls?"

"A fair few. But I have never… never _craved_ one as much as I have you. Perhaps because you resisted me at first. But you have succumbed to me, as they all do. It makes my prize that much sweeter, you see…"

His lips were on her neck. Christine continued to stare out of the window, trying not to shudder at his touch.

"Tell me, Viscount… is this just for tonight or until you grow bored with me as you did those other girls?" she asked coolly. To her surprise he merely laughed again as his hands explored her skin.

"I have no idea, Christine. I doubt very much that I will grow bored of you. But for now, I shall just take tonight."

She felt herself shaking with fear and anger.

"And what if I am already promised to someone else?" she asked. He stopped and looked down at her. She continued to stare out of the window.

"Who else is there?" he asked.

"I am not saying there is someone. But if there was and I was promised to him… what then?"

"Than you would have to break that promise," he said dangerously.

Christine turned and faced him. "Break a promise? That hardly seems fitting."

"There are some promises you cannot keep," William said. Christine stepped past him, away from the window and towards the bed. She sat on the edge and looked up at him. He followed her, bent down and kissed her roughly. She did not kiss him back but nor did she resist. Her only thoughts were about the Opera House and about Erik…

His hands were running over her now, unbuttoning the nightdress. She could not speak, could not do anything but lie there and let him touch her. This is it, she thought. Tonight I lose myself to him and in return save the Opera Populaire. I save Erik by betraying him.

At least, that was what would have happened, had there not been a sudden banging and screaming from the corridor. William sat up sharply and Christine hastily buttoned the nightdress again.

"What on earth…?" He went to the door and wrenched it open. Christine wrapped a cloak around herself and followed him.

A crowd was running towards the theatre room. Meg pushed through the crowd and seized Christine's arm.

"Meg, what is it?"

"It's the Phantom of the Opera, Christine! It's the Phantom!"

The two girls pushed through the crowd, Christine feeling fear fill her chest. The Viscount followed them as they ran into the theatre room. Firmin turned and saw Christine.

"Miss Daae! What is this? Do you know what it is?" he asked, clearly puzzled. Christine looked past him and gasped.

Across the stage was a message, scrawled in what looked like blood. She stepped up onto the stage to read it.

"_If you touch her again, Viscount, I will kill you. O.G."_ she read aloud. She knelt and touched the liquid with her fingertips. It was thick and she smelt it. She turned to the gathered crowd.

"It is only paint," she said, wiping the substance away on her nightdress.

"But what does it mean!" André exclaimed, anxiously. Christine looked down at the message. William joined her on the stage.

"What does O.G mean?"

"…Opera Ghost. It means Opera Ghost," Meg said quietly. Christine's eyes went, involuntarily, to Box 5. William caught her glance and sharply looked up at the empty box. Christine looked away hastily and cried aloud as the Viscount seized her arm, pulling her closely to him.

"Listen to me, _Opera Ghost_! She is mine! _She is mine_!" he shouted into the darkness.

Christine tried to pull away from him but he held her so tightly that she couldn't even struggle. He looked down at her furiously.

"Is he the one? The one you have promised yourself to?"

"Let me go," she whispered.

"Viscount!" Firmin said, surprised at his patron's actions. William glared around the hall and then pushed Christine away. She slipped on the slick paint and fell to the stage with a heavy thud. Red paint coated her face and she tried to wipe it off.

William looked around the room again and roared, "No more Phantom, _she is mine_!"

Christine climbed once more to her feet, feeling the red paint soaking through her thin nightdress to her skin. William turned on her but before he could speak music began to play from somewhere, a solo violin. Everyone looked around for the source of the sound.

**Wandering child**

**So lost**

**So helpless**

**Yearning for love and guidance**

Christine recognized Erik's voice and before she could stop herself she sang back, stepping forward on the stage, her eyes searching the room for a glimpse of him.

_Angel or lover?_

_Friend or phantom?_

_Who is it there singing?_

His voice came back.

**Have you forgotten your angel?**

Christine continued to sing, ignoring the shocked faces of the cast, her friends, the managers and the Viscount.

_Angel, oh speak_

_What endless longings_

_Echo in this whisper?_

"Christine, stop it!" William thundered. Erik's voice echoed around them as he sang to her.

**Too long you've wandered in winter**

**Far from my true loving gaze**

Christine sang to the heavens, pushing her voice to reach him wherever he was.

_Wildly my heart beats for your touch_

**You sing and**

**_And your/my soul obeys!_**

The music reached a beautiful crescendo. To the observer, it was a beautiful thing. This girl, smeared with that violent yet power color, singing in perfect harmony with the disembodied voice.

**_Angel of Music!  
You/I denied me/you  
Turning from true beauty  
Angel of Music!  
Do not shun me/my protector  
Come to your/ me, strange Angel..._**

Christine waited as he sang in a low, sensual voice.

**__****I am your angel of music…**

**__****Come to me, angel of music…**

Christine stared up into the rafters of the Opera House and then jumped as Erik's voice rang out harshly,

"Read my message, Viscount. Every word is true."

"Hear me now, Phantom! She is mine!" William yelled, stepping towards Christine and laying a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away and called to Erik.

"Angel! Don't leave me!" she cried. William pulled her back to him and glared at her.

"That is no angel, you idiotic girl!"

She pulled away and cried out to Erik.

"Please, Angel… no more."

There was no reply. Christine looked around at the crowd. Her eyes met those of Madame Giry's. Christine shook her head and looked up at Box 5.

"No more… please, no more…" she whispered.

And then, before anyone could move, she had fainted, falling into the paint and looking as if she lay in a pool of blood.


	4. Part Four

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Four**

When she awoke, the next day, it was to anxious whispers. She opened her eyes blearily and sat up. She couldn't remember… the stage… the paint… Erik singing to her…

"Erik?" she said aloud. The voices stopped and Firmin, André and Madame Giry all rushed in.

"Christine!"

"Miss Daae! Are you alright?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

Christine clutched her head and reached for the water on the bedside table. She drained the glass and then looked up, wild eyed.

"What happened? The Viscount… and the Phantom! Where are they?"

"The Viscount is on his way. And as for the Phantom… Miss Daae, why has he taken such an interest in you?" Firmin asked. Christine turned to Madame Giry.

"Madame, is he alright?"

"He is fine, child," Madame Giry assured her. The managers looked genuinely confused but started as Christine clambered out bed. Someone had cleaned the paint from her and dressed her in a new nightdress.

"Madame, I can't do it! I can't give him what he wants!" Christine sobbed, clutching her hair in desperation. André stepped forward.

"The Phantom?"

"No, the Viscount. You heard what he said… he won't let me go." Christine cried, wiping at her tears angrily.

Firmin looked at André. "Do you understand _any_ of this?"

"Not a word. Miss Daae, please calm down and explain what you mean."

Christine took a deep breath and said, "The Viscount… unless I give myself to him he is going to renounce his patronage of the Opera Populaire. I swear, Monsieurs, I have tried but I can't… I can't do it. I belong to someone else, but I cannot let him close the Opera House!"

Firmin and André stared at her. Firmin cleared his throat.

"And when you refused him… he hit you?"

She nodded.

"Why did you not tell us?"

"Are you not listening to me? He is going to _close_ the Opera House!"

"Miss Daae, I think you should get some rest. We would just like a word with Madame Giry."

They went into the next room and Christine sat in silence, straining her ears to hear their conversation.

"Madame Giry, the girl is not stable. She cannot accuse someone of the Viscount's position of something like this!"

"And if it is true? That he is going to renounce his patronage unless she sleeps with him?" Madame Giry demanded.

"Who is everyone going to believe, Madame Giry? They will believe the Viscount. I think it best that Miss Daae is sent away to a home until she is of a sound mind."

Christine couldn't believe it. They thought she was insane? That was… she got to her feet.

No. They would not send her away. They could not. If they separated her from Erik…

"Please, do not send me away!" she cried, bursting into the next room. The three people looked at her.

"Miss Daae, the stress has clearly affected you. It would not be permanent. We would send Monsieur Reyer to you so you could practice the Opera. You would perform in three weeks, as planned. You will be able to relax," Firmin said, in his most convincing voice.

Christine stared at him and then turned to Madame Giry.

"Madame, please…"

"Christine, you will go." She said.

Christine gaped at her. "But Madame!"

"It will be better for you. No one will be able to get to you there." It was clear that Madame Giry meant the Viscount. But also it would mean separation from Erik. Madame Giry touched her shoulder.

"It will be alright, Christine. I promise you that everything will be alright," she said quietly.

Christine turned away, feeling betrayed. "I… I will pack," she said in little more than a whisper.

* * *

A carriage was waiting outside the Opera house when Christine had packed a few things. She hesitated on the steps of the Opera House. Madame Giry kissed her cheek.

"I will see you in three weeks, Christine."

"Tell him…" Christine began. But she didn't know what message Madame Giry could relay to Erik. Instead she shook her head and went down the steps. Several ballet girls were watching, talking quietly. Meg hugged her friend tightly.

"I will write to you, Christine," she promised.

Christine smiled weakly. "Thank you, Meg. I will see you soon."

Christine looked out of the window, back towards the Opera House. And as she did her heart ripped in two.

* * *

"What do you mean she has gone!" the Viscount shouted at Firmin and André who cowered.

"Miss Daae has been suffering from extreme stress. We thought it best that she have some time away to mentally prepare herself for the performance," André explained.

"Where is she?" William demanded. Madame Giry came in and shook her head.

"She will have no visitors, monsieur."

"I want to see her!" William shouted. Madame Giry stood proudly, not allowing him to intimidate her.

"I am sorry, monsieur. She will return in three weeks for the opera. No one shall see her before then. If you will excuse me, I have rehearsals to practice."

* * *

Erik sat at his organ, staring blankly at the sheet music in front of him. He had gone to see Christine only to find her gone and Madame Giry had said that she had left the Opera House. He felt… empty.

Marie Giry would not tell him where Christine had gone. "She needs to get away from everything, Erik. That includes you." She had told him. He had felt utter fury at that but knew that there was no chance of getting the information from her.

A thought struck him and he got to his feet. He had to see Marie Giry.

Madame Giry looked up as she heard footsteps. A cloaked figure stood in the shadows.

"Erik, I have told you that I will not-"

"No, Marie. I will not force you to tell me. But you must do just one thing for me."

"And what is that?" Madame Giry inquired, tidying props away. Erik held out a letter and a rose tied with a black ribbon.

"Send these to her."

"Erik-"

"It is nothing that will harm her. Merely a letter to wish a quick recovery and some singing tips," Erik said firmly. Marie looked at him and sighed.

"Very well. I will send them to her."

"Thank you, Marie."

"But in return you must not attempt to see her until the night of the Opera."

"Agreed."

"And Erik? The Viscount has chosen to sit in Box 5 at the opera," Marie said hesitantly. Erik didn't speak and then disappeared. Marie shook her head and sat down to write a letter.

* * *

Christine sat at the desk in her room. The home was nice enough: a large house which had been converted. She had arrived yesterday, expecting something much worse.

There was a knock at the door and a nurse looked in.

"A visitor for you, Miss Daae."

Christine stood as Madame Giry came in. "Madame? Is everything alright?" she asked, wondering why she should visit so soon.

"Everything is fine, Christine. I am merely here to deliver a message for you."

"From whom?"

Madame Giry held out the rose and the letter. Christine's breath caught in her throat and she darted forward to seize them. Madame Giry stared as she tore open the letter and read hungrily.

_My dearest Christine,_

_ Madame Giry has informed me of what happened. She will not tell me where you are, but has agreed to deliver this letter to you. She believes it is a letter wishing you a recovery and some singing tips. Make sure that is all she believes._

_ What happened on the stage was an accident. I never meant for you to be hurt. My apologies to you for what happened. _

_ It was supposed to be nothing more than a warning for the Viscount. I did not plan to sing to you. It just happened that way. My darling angel, I will find the time we spend apart unbearable and wait impatiently for your return to the Opera Populaire. When you return I will make sure that the Viscount is prevented from taking you away from me. I realize that this sounds undeniably selfish but I want nothing more than to keep you for myself._

_ There is much more that I wish to tell you, but not this way. When you return we will talk more thoroughly. For now, I can only give you my love._

_Erik_

Christine sank into the chair, clutching the letter tightly.

Madame Giry asked, "Everything is alright?"

"Everything is… is fine. Thank you, Madame Giry. Thank you so much…" Christine said, hugging her tightly.

She looked pleasantly surprised and asked, "Do you wish to reply?"

"What? Oh… yes. Yes, I will write a letter now," Christine said, seating herself at the desk.

"Monsieur Reyer is waiting downstairs for your singing lesson. Do not take too long."

"I won't," Christine said with a smile.

* * *

_My darling Erik,_

_ You can have no idea of the happiness your letter has brought me. This place is not bad, but I would so much rather be there with you. The only comfort of being here is knowing that the Viscount cannot reach me. _

_ The incident on the stage was, in no way, your fault. Do not think for a moment that you were in anyway responsible for what happened that night. _

_ I must write quickly, for Monsieur Reyer is waiting for our lesson. All I can write is that I could never belong to anyone other than you and offer you all that I have – myself._

_All of my love, forever_

_Your__ Christine_

Erik stared at the hastily written words and then up at Madame Giry.

"Marie… did Christine truly write this?"

"Every word," Marie confirmed. Erik looked back down at the letter and then, to her utmost surprise, kissed Marie's cheek before disappearing into the shadows.

She allowed a shadow of a smile to cross her face before going to rehearsals.

* * *

The time passed quickly. Christine and Erik exchanged letters with the help of Madame Giry, although not many times. Christine practiced hard, pleasing Monsieur Reyer.

"You are doing incredibly well, Miss Daae! The opera is sure to be a great success," he assured her. Christine smiled and thanked him.

The day arrived when she would return to the Opera House. She had packed her things and was pacing the room impatiently for the carriage to arrive. When it did arrive, she took her things, thanked the nurses, and hurried to the carriage. Madame Giry was waiting for her and greeted her with a knowing smile.

"Are you glad to be returning?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. Christine smiled.

"More than I can express with words."

* * *

The journey back to the Opera Populaire seemed unbearably long. As soon as the carriage stopped Christine climbed out and dashed up the steps, muttering something about taking her bag to her room.

She burst through the door and cried, "Erik!"

The room was empty.

Christine looked around in confusion and then approached the mirror. "Erik?" she asked, wondering why he wasn't there. Madame Giry's reflection appeared in the doorway.

"Christine, there is a rehearsal now. It is important that you run through with the other performers."

"Where is he?" Christine asked quietly.

Madame Giry looked around and then gestured to an envelope on the desk. Christine tore it open and a slip of paper fell out with just one word written on it.

_Tonight._

She smiled and tucked the note into a drawer.

"He is waiting to hear you sing," Madame Giry murmured.

Christine smiled and said, "Then we should go and practice. It must be perfect for him."

* * *

Carlotta was the only person who was not glad to see Christine. After a few snide comments, they began to practice.

Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer were astounded at the change in Christine. She sang more perfectly than ever before, danced as if she were floating on air and not even Carlotta's comments could change her mood. She even insisted that they run through twice, to make sure everything was perfect.

André and Firmin greeted her nervously but she smiled brightly.

"Monsieurs, I should thank you for helping me through my difficulties."

"You are… better now?"

"Much better, thank you. Excuse me," she said as Madame Giry called her. The managers looked at each other in surprise and then smiled.

* * *

By the time they started to get ready for the Opera, Christine could barely contain her excitement. Meg helped her into her costume, a lovely red dress, and did her hair for her.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little. More excited than nervous though," Christine admitted.

Meg smiled. "Your time away has obviously helped you. You look so happy!"

"I am happy, Meg! I am!" Christine laughed, spinning around to let her hair fly out behind her. Meg laughed.

"Why? What on earth has brought out this change in you?"

"I have had three weeks of wonderful relaxation, I have been practicing my singing, and I'm performing in a famous opera, even if it _is_ only a small part." Christine laughed, throwing out her arms as she danced a few steps. She turned to look back at her friend and found the smile had faded from her face. But before she could ask what was wrong she bumped into someone. Christine fell to the ground and she giggled helplessly.

"My apologies, Monsieur…" she said, looking up but the breath caught in her throat as she found the Viscount de Martinez looking down at her with a smug smile.

"Miss Daae. You have returned, and in a far better mood than our last meeting," he said holding out a hand to help her up. She didn't take it, climbing to her feet, and tried to think of a way out of the conversation.

"You are feeling recovered?" he asked. Christine nodded.

"I am, Viscount. Thank you for asking. You will be watching the Opera?"

"Of course. From Box 5."

"_Box__ 5_?" Christine said in surprise. He looked amused.

"Yes."

"I… I see. Excuse me. I must go and warm up my voice," Christine said, attempting to step past him. He caught her hand and smiled.

"Christine, I will take you to supper tonight."

"No monsieur, I cannot. My apologies, but I have to meet with the managers tonight and there are several people that I must speak with. I have a lot to catch up with, since I have been away for so long." Christine said firmly. William looked surprised, but amused as well.

"Very well. Tomorrow, then. And I won't take no for an answer, Christine."

Christine didn't reply. Instead she stepped past, and she and Meg walked on towards the back of the theatre. Meg glanced over at Christine who had a stony look on her face.

"Are you alright, Christine?"

"I'm fine, Meg. Come on, let's go! This is going to be wonderful!" Christine laughed, excitement filling her again.

* * *

Christine's song was the end of the Opera. It was when she and her lover, played by Piangi, sang to each other before Christine's character was killed. It was a simple, pleasant song called _All I Ask Of You_.

Christine danced onto the stage beautifully and sat near the edge, her legs arranged gracefully as the bars of music began to play and she waited for Piangi to start singing.

She didn't know, nor did anyone else, that Piangi was currently unconscious in a cupboard and the man who stepped onto the stage behind her was a different person. But as he began to sing Christine's eyes widened and her heart began to race. She longed to turn and run to him, but knew above all things that they must finish the opera.

**No more talk of darkness**

**Forget these wild eyed fears**

**I'm here**

**Nothing can harm you**

**My words will warm and calm you**

Erik sang, his eyes fixed on her. On her cue, she rose gracefully to her feet and turned to face him. They were on opposite sides of the stage and he longed to cover the distance between them and hold her to him. A smile from her assured him that she felt them same way, so he continued.

**Let me be your freedom**

**Let daylight dry your tears**

**I'm here with you, beside you**

**To guard you and to guide you**

_Now_, he thought. _Now it is your turn_. And, perfectly in time, she began to sing in that pure voice that made his heart ache, the way all beauty did. Christine smiled, dancing gently and beautifully. They did not touch but danced around each other.

_Say you'll love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you'll need me with you now and always_

_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That's all I ask of you_

They stopped dancing again, still at opposite sides of the stage. Christine glanced up and the Viscount staring down at her, a slight frown on his face. He knew, she thought. He knew something was wrong. But she couldn't think about that now. Not when Erik was singing to her.

**Let me be your shelter**

**Let me be your light**

**You're safe**

**No one will find you**

**Your fears are far behind you**

He held out a hand to her and she danced across, singing her own part until he held her in his arms as she sang and they danced together, in a movement that looked as though it had been practiced for over a thousand years.

_All I want is freedom_

_A world with no more night_

_And you always beside me_

_To hold me and to hide me_

Almost before she'd finished singing the last note Erik sang again in his powerful voice, dancing her majestically, his eyes fixed on hers. To the audience, it was as if they were completely unaware of the fact that they were being watched, as if they were alone together. The audience sat in perfect wonder at the beautiful movement and sound coming from the two figures on the stage.

**Then say you'll share with me**

**One love, one lifetime**

**Let me lead you from your solitude**

**Say you need me with you here**

**Beside you**

**Anywhere you go let me go to**

**Christine**

**That's all I ask of you**

Several members of the audience looked confused. Christine was not the name of the character, but most were too absorbed in the singing to care. The Viscount on the other hand had looked across at the managers in the opposite box who had exchanged a startled glance at the name.

_Say you'll share with me_

_One love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

Erik joined her and they sang together. He put his hands on her waist and lifted her, spinning her around and she smiled in utter delight.

**_Share each day with me_**

**_Each night_**

**_Each morning_**

He put her down again and she stepped back slightly, teasing him and daring him to come closer.

_Say you love me_

She sang the words clearly, her eyes fixed on his, and he took her hands in his as he sang his reply.

**You know I do**

And then they sang together, quietly.

**_Love me_**

**_That's all I ask of you_**

The music surged again as they danced, apart from each other at first and then rushing back to each other again, as if even those few seconds had been too unbearable. The crescendo hit its peak and they sang again, louder and more clearly than ever before, pouring their true emotions into every syllable.

**_Anywhere you go let me go too_**

**_Love me_**

**_That's all I ask of you…_**

The music faded away, leaving the two figures on the stage in silence, wrapped in each other's arms. The audience held its breath and then Erik began to sing without the music.

**Say you'll share with me one love**

**One lifetime**

**Lead me, save me **

**From my solitude**

The orchestra members looked at each other in confusion but Monsieur Reyer leapt in, signaling for them to play again, but quietly, gently.

**Say you'll want me with you**

**Here beside you**

**Anywhere you go let me go too**

**Christine!**

**That's all I ask of-**

But he never finished. Because Christine had reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Shocked silence filled the room. This sort of behavior was unheard of! And yet… most members of the audience sensed that what was happening was no longer an act.

And then the spell was broken by a groggy Piangi running onto the stage and pointing an accusing finger at Erik.

"Intruder! He hit me and hid me!" he cried.

The Viscount got to his feet and shouted at some men at the sides of the stage. "Seize him! Don't let him get away!"

"Erik!" Christine cried.

Erik seized her arm and whispered, "The mirror. I will meet you there."

And then he vanished. The audience exclaimed and began to talk noisily. Christine turned and began to run off the stage but the Viscount shouted and one of the men seized her. She kicked at him and he grunted in pain, allowing her to get by.

* * *

Christine ran through the theatre, ignoring the shouts and exclamations. She flung herself through the door to her room and screamed as she ran into William.

He grabbed her arms and spat down at her, "Where is he, Christine? Where is Erik?"

"Let me go!" Christine shrieked. William held her tightly and slapped her face.

"Tell me, Christine!"

"No! I won't let you hurt him!" she shouted, no longer caring for her own safety.

"Why not? _Why_?" William demanded.

"Because I love him and if you hurt him I will kill you!" Christine cried.

William stared down at her and then smirked.

"Is that so? The star of the Opera Populaire in love with the Opera Ghost… how very ironic. And does he love you in return?"

"Yes. He does." Christine said firmly. William laughed and dragged her after him, away from the mirror and towards the bed. Christine screamed, hitting at him but she had no effect. William threw her onto the bed and locked the door. Christine jumped up but he slammed her against the wall, kissing her so roughly it was painful.

"If he loves you, he'll come… and then we can punish him as he deserves," William hissed in her ear, ripping her dress in his hurry to remove it. Christine cried aloud and tried to push him away but he was much stronger than her.

"Come on then, _Erik_! If you love her, come and save her!" William shouted, throwing her onto the bed. She tried to twist away but he pulled her back, kissing her again. He saddled her, pinning her to the bed. Tears of rage and humiliation sprung into her eyes and she screamed again as William carried on shouting to Erik.

And then he was there, hitting William, knocking him off of her. Christine hurriedly covered her naked body and jumped up as William and Erik fought.

"Erik!"

She ran to the door and unlocked it, with the idea of getting help but was flung back from the door as several men rushed in. They pulled Erik and William apart and Christine cried as they pinned Erik to the wall. He struggled but even he couldn't fight off this many men. William seized Christine's arms and shouted,

"Take him to the stage! Let's show the people of this ridiculous Opera Populaire exactly what they've been fearing all this time!"

* * *

The performers of the Opera Populaire were all talking loudly when the entered. More than one person shouted in protest when they saw Christine being dragged along but one look from the Viscount made them fall back.

Firmin stepped forward, "Viscount, I _must_ protest!"

"In your place, you fool," William spat. Erik was dragged onto the stage where he struggled uselessly. Christine, being held by William, fought to get to him, bitter tears running down her face. Meg looked at Erik in surprise.

"The Phantom of the Opera!" she cried and everyone began to talk until William shouted for silence.

He shook Christine. "You are all fools of the highest degree! To be scared for so long of nothing more than a pathetic man like this…" He threw Christine at two men who held an arm each. She tried to wrestle away but they were so strong.

William crossed to Erik and punched his face. Christine cried and threw herself towards them but the two men wrenched her back. William seized Erik's hair and pulled his face up.

"Tell me, André; is this pathetic creature worth 20,000 francs a month? Is this despicable beast so frightening that he gets whatever he wants?" William asked.

Christine shouted, "Stop this! Leave him alone!" William glanced across at her in amusement and then back at the crowd gathered before the stage.

Madame Giry stepped forward. "Viscount, release them," she said sharply. The Viscount glared down at her.

"I think not, Madame Giry. Because I want to ask Christine something and I think you all might have been interested in the answer."

He turned to Christine and said, "Tell us, Christine. Have you ever seen what lies beneath the Phantom's mask?" Christine swallowed hard and William smirked.

"I thought not."

"Viscount, please. This madness must stop," Madame Giry said. William looked at Firmin and André.

"Wouldn't you like to see what it is that has been influencing your Opera House for so long?"

The managers looked at each other and Christine sobbed, "No… please, monsieurs let him go."

"What is that, Miss Daae?" William said, looking down at her.

She pulled herself up to her full height and shouted, "I said let him go!"

"And why would we do that?" William demanded.

"Because I love him!" Christine shouted.

Gasps filled the hall and Christine looked down at the crowd.

"I love him. I don't care what any of you say or think. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life. When I sang tonight, I sang only for him."

"And yet you have never seen beneath his mask!" William shouted in glee. He marched across to Erik who tried to pull away. William seized his hair, pulling his face up so everyone could see him and shouted,

"_This_ is your Phantom of the Opera!"

And he pulled the white mask away.

Screams filled the room and the Viscount dropped the mask in horror and disgust. Christine felt her blood run cold.

His face was a twisted mass of flesh, dark red with faint blue veins showing. His eye was sunk so far back into its socket that the flesh of the eye socket was clearly visible. The effect was skeletal and shocking beyond belief.

"My god!" Firmin said in horror. The two men holding Christine had loosened their grip and Erik had fallen to his knees as he captors moved away in disgust.

Christine pulled free and looked across the stage to where the two men were. One, incredibly handsome, standing tall and strong. The man next to him was kneeling on the stage, desperately trying to hide his mangled face.

William looked across at Christine.

"Now tell us that you love him," he said quietly. He did not need to speak loudly. Everyone had become silent at the sight of the girl walking slowly towards the kneeling figure.

Christine didn't reply. She crossed slowly to Erik, her bare feet making no noise. Without a word she stood above him. He looked up, his hands still clasped over the deformed side of his face. Christine looked down at him.

"Stand up," she said quietly. Slowly, painfully slowly, he got to his feet, his hands attempting to cover his face.

Christine swallowed hard. She reached up and took his hands away from his face. There was a slight intake of breath but Christine didn't hesitate. Her fingers lightly ran over the twisted flesh, caressing it softly. Slowly she started to sing.

_Mistreated creature of darkness_

_What kind of life have you known?_

_God gave me courage to show you_

_You are not alone!_

And then she reached up and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was brief, sweet, and precious. Christine pulled away and pressed her lips against the deformed skin, kissing it over and over again until the tears became too much and she buried her face in his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, holding tightly and he pressed his face into her curling mass of hair.

For some time no one spoke. Christine looked up at Erik, her face streaked with tears and then, her arms still around his neck, she turned to look at the Viscount.

"I love him. You asked me to tell you that I still love him, even with his mask off. I don't love him despite his face. I love him because of it."

"Christine…" Erik whispered.

She turned back to him, tears coming anew and pressed her face to his, whispering over and over again, "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

Bearing in mind that this was a theatre, and the crowd watching this were all great supporters of drama, they couldn't resist a short round of applause. But William shouted to his men and the pair were ripped apart. William looked at Christine in disgust but she stared at him defiantly.

"Christine, I have offered you everything and still you choose this deformed creature over me?" he said, disbelievingly.

Christine spat, "Yes, I choose him."

"I very much doubt that. The police are on their way. He'll be going to prison for the rest of his life," William sneered.

Christine's eyes widened. "No… no, you can't do that!"

"I can do anything I want, Christine. You forget that," William smirked.

Christine seized his arm. "No! Don't do this!"

"Too late, Christine." He shook her off.

"Monsieur André, Monsieur Firmin, please! Please!" Christine begged. The managers looked helpless. Christine tried to reach Erik but William held her back.

"Erik, I won't let them take you!" she cried. William merely laughed and Erik tried to shake off the two men who were holding him back again.

"Christine…" he said, trying to reach her.

"I can't lose you!" Christine cried. A thought flashed through her brain. She stopped struggling and stood perfectly still. Erik stared at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Slowly she turned to William.

"Let him leave… let him leave the Opera House."

"And why would I do that?" William asked smugly. Christine held his eye and said with a carefully composed face,

"If you let him go… I will do anything you ask of me."

"_NO_!" Erik roared, punching out at the two men who held him, but still not able to shake them off. William observed Christine.

"You would do that for him?"

"Yes. If you let him leave, tell the police that it was all a misunderstanding and on the condition that he stays away from the Opera House he is allowed to walk free… I am yours."

"Christine, no!" Erik shouted.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as tears threatened to flow. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked up at the Viscount. He was looking at her strangely.

"Well? Your choice, Viscount," she said firmly. William glanced over at Erik's furious face and then back down at the girl who stood before him. Without taking his off her he spoke to one of them men.

"Jacques?"

"Viscount?"

"Escort that man off the premises. He is free to go."

Christine let out a slight sob and then bit her lip tightly. She looked over at Erik who was being dragged away.

"Wait… wait!" She cried, "Let me say goodbye at least!"

"Very well." William said, sounding bored. Christine jumped off the front of the stage, through the crowd to where Erik was standing. He held out his arms for her and she threw herself into them.

"Christine, don't do this…" he begged. She looked up at him.

"I love you. I can't let them take you to prison!"

"You think that this is better?" he demanded sharply. Christine looked up at him, unable to stop the fresh wave of tears.

"Erik, if you're in prison we are separated forever. You said that you would never leave me. And you never will. Not if you're free."

"Christine, I _can't_ let you do this… you can't give yourself to him!" Erik said harshly. Christine placed a finger to his lips and flung her arms around his neck on the pretence of sobbing uncontrollably.

As she did so she whispered, "One day… one day we'll be together again…"

"Enough!" the Viscount shouted. Erik was wrenched away from her and she stood helplessly as he was dragged from the room. She was shaking, staring after him with wide eyes.

"Christine!" he shouted back to her. She took a step but William's hand had found her arm and was holding onto her tightly.

"Erik…" she whispered before it all became too much and she fell to her knees and wept, her hands clasped over her mouth as she took shuddering gasps.

The members of the Opera Populaire gathered around the sobbing girl, but none tried to comfort her. They didn't know what to say. André and Firmin looked as helpless as the rest of them. More than one actor or dancer glared at the Viscount but he ignored them. He turned to Madame Giry.

"Take Miss Daae to her room."

Madame Giry stepped forward and took Christine's arm, pulling her to her feet. Christine's eyes were fixed on the door but Madame Giry pulled her towards the stage, taking the shorter route to the rooms. Christine stopped and bent to pick up the white porcelain mask. Madame Giry took her arm again and guided her out. The door closed behind them and the Viscount turned to Firmin and André.

"She will perform tomorrow night and the night after. When the opera is finished I will be taking her away. Ensure that her things are packed."

He turned and walked out. Meg spat after him and walked away. Many followed her.

**A/N: First of all, I have to think everyone who has reviewed so far! I was nervous about posting this story but you're very encouraging! And, in case you're wondering how I'm managing to spit out ten pages every day, I've already written the first twelve chapters. But I'm posting them at my leisure Don't hate me! Lol, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm expecting a few death threats because of this ending, but there you go. Love you all, Katie.**


	5. Part Five

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Five**

Christine slept uneasily, awaking more than once. On one occasion she went to the door and carefully tried it, but it was locked from the outside.

When Madame Giry came to her the next morning she was sitting at the desk, staring down at the mask in her hands.

"Christine, it is time for rehearsals," she said gently.

Christine didn't look up but spoke in a quiet voice. "Tell me I did the right thing, Madame… please, tell me it was right."

"You saved his life, Christine," Madame Giry said, touching her shoulder gently.

"Then why do I feel like this? Why do I feel so… hollow?" Christine asked. Madame Giry did not answer. She could not.

Christine sniffed hard and said in a voice that threatened to crack at any moment, "My god… at this time yesterday I was traveling back to the Opera House. And all I could think of was _him_. What would it be like when we were finally together again? I didn't know that at this time we would be parted forever…"

Her voice caught and she took a shuddering breath. She composed herself and got to her feet.

"Rehearsals…" she said weakly.

"Christine, the Viscount is going to take you away tomorrow night. After the performance," Madame Giry warned her. Christine looked at her and closed her eyes. For some time she didn't move. Soon she opened her eyes.

"I should go to rehearsal."

* * *

Even Carlotta acted nicely towards Christine that day. She waited for her part to come, sitting in the front row of the seats. Meg tried to talk to her, but Christine found she didn't have the words to start a conversation, so Meg left her in peace.

"Miss Daae? It's time for your scene," Monsieur Reyer said hesitantly. Everyone fell silent as Christine took her place on the edge of the stage. Her eyes lifted to Box 5 but it was empty. Piangi began to sing _All I Ask Of You_. He had a slightly guilty look on his face, as though he felt bad about singing it.

Christine rose to her feet and softly began to sing her own part.

_Say you'll love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you'll need me with you now and always_

_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That's all I ask of you_

Piangi sang in return and everyone watched as she played out the part. There was none of the joy or feeling that had existed only last night, although it seemed much longer ago. Monsieur Reyer tapped his baton.

"Miss Daae, perhaps you should try a solo song, to warm your voice." She didn't object and stood at the front of the stage. Monsieur Reyer handed her a piece of music and she read it. She nodded to him and the music began to play. Christine began to sing, holding herself tall. There was a sadness to her voice that only made it sound even sweeter than usual, a wonderful purity that caused everyone to stop and look at her in amazement.

_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Imagine me_

_Once in a while please_

_Promise me you'll try_

_When you find _

_That once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment_

_Spare a thought for me_

They were interrupted by a slow clapping from the back of the hall. Everyone turned and saw the Viscount, watching with a smile on his face. Christine repressed the shiver that threatened to go down her spine. He walked slowly down the center aisle towards the stage. Monsieur Reyer looked at him frankly.

"Viscount de Martinez, we are rehearsing."

"I shall not keep you any longer, then," he said smugly, sitting down in the front row. Christine ripped her eyes away from him and back down onto the music. Monsieur Reyer looked at her.

"From the beginning?"

"Yes, Monsieur," she said quietly. The Viscount was watching her closely but she kept her eyes on Box 5, singing as if someone was standing there, watching her.

* * *

At lunchtime everyone split off into separate groups. Christine bent to tie her lace and found herself looking at a pair of trouser legs. She didn't look up but tied her lace and then stood. William smiled and kissed her hand.

"Christine. You sang beautifully."

She did not reply, but held his gaze silently. He sighed. "Don't give me that look, my dear. He made his choice and so did you. And you made the right one."

Christine turned to walk away but he seized her wrist and pulled her back around.

"Don't walk away from me, Christine," he said dangerously. "You belong to me now. Don't forget that."

"For how long? How long until you grow bored of me?" she asked sharply.

He looked at her angrily. "Do not think for one minute that I am ever letting you go, Christine. I do not lose, especially not to pathetic, deformed excuses for men. Tomorrow night I am taking you to my estate outside of Pairs and you are never returning to this Opera house again. Do you understand?" he hissed. Neither of them seemed aware of the stares of members of the cast.

Christine looked at him and said, "You have taken away everything that I ever cared about. I don't care what you do to me anymore."

And with that she stepped away. But the Viscount called, "What about this? Does this mean nothing?" She turned and, to her horror, saw the white porcelain mask clasped in his hand. She stepped towards him.

"Where did you get that!" she cried. He smirked.

"Well, if it means nothing you won't care if it breaks."

"No! Please, give it to me!" she exclaimed, stepping back to him.

William looked down at her and anger flooded his face.

"You are _mine_," he spat. Christine reached for the mask but he threw it and she screamed. It hit the stage and shattered into a thousand pieces with a sickening crack. She cried aloud and darted forward, trying to gather the scraps, but William pulled her back, throwing her down. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

"You… you broke it…" she choked. William bent down and pulled her to her feet. She stared at the porcelain scraps and picked one up. He knocked it from her hand and shouted at a ballet girl.

"Clear it away. Make sure that every piece is thrown away."

He looked down at her.

"Now you are truly mine. There is nothing of him left in this Opera House, and soon you will be gone from here forever." Christine couldn't speak. William bent down and kissed her briefly. She didn't move or respond as he walked away. Madame Giry approached Christine and touched her hand.

"Child… crying does not show weakness."

"No… no more tears. He is gone. Everything that I ever had of him is gone…" Christine whispered. Madame Giry shook her head sadly and walked away.

Christine took a deep breath and turned away. But the ballet girl who had been clearing the shattered mask ran up to her and pressed something to her hand before retuning to the stage. Christine looked down and found the largest piece of the mask that was still whole in her hand. She looked at the ballet girl and smiled weakly.

"Thank you," she whispered. The ballet girl grinned impishly before scampering off. Christine looked down at the piece. It was a piece of the right cheek, just below the eye, the edge curving up to go onto the nose. Christine tucked it into her pocket before going back to her room.

* * *

The performance that night went well enough. Christine saw the Viscount watching from Box 5 and felt a rush of anger that he dared to sit in Erik's place. Afterwards, Christine went to her room. To her relief William did not come to her that night. She sat awake for several hours to make sure before allowing herself the luxury of sleep. But even sleep was ruined. All she saw were images of Erik, the shattered mask, and the Viscount.

Madame Giry woke her early the next morning.

"Rehearsals this morning. Then you should spend the afternoon packing your things," she said quietly.

Christine dressed and went to the theatre. Few people were there and Monsieur Reyer said, "Miss Daae, I have been told to excuse you from rehearsals so you may… pack your things."

Christine looked at him and said, "Who told you to… never mind. Thank you, Monsieur." She turned away and felt the press of the mask piece in her pocket.

When Christine entered the lobby of the Opera House she met Firmin and André. They looked at her awkwardly.

"Miss Daae…" Firmin began, but she shook her head.

"Thank you for all that you have done, Monsieurs. You have helped me greatly in my time here."

"We are… sorry that you are to leave us."

"I'm sorry to be leaving," she said quietly before stepping past to go to her room. Firmin and André looked at each other, both with looks of fury and pity.

* * *

After her final performance and Christine returned to her room, it was to find lots of people from the cast waiting for her.

"We wanted to say goodbye," Meg explained.

After hugs, kisses, and goodbyes, Christine went into her room. Meg and Madame Giry went with her. Her things had already been taken apart from a small traveling bag. Christine picked it up and then went to the desk.

"It has already been emptied," Meg began, but she gave a gasp of surprise as Christine took the bottom out of the drawer. A small locket was inside.

"A gift from my father before he died," she explained, placing it around her neck.

Madame Giry stepped forward and said, "He is waiting."

Christine looked around the room one more time and her eyes came to rest on a bouquet of flowers. A thought hit her like lightning and she picked them up. Madame Giry looked at her in confusion. Christine smiled briefly. The ballet mistress gave a rare smile and hugged her tightly.

"Good luck, my child. You are welcome to return here at any time."

"I doubt very much that I shall be returning," Christine said, and turned to Meg.

"Goodbye Meg. I shall try to write."

"I will miss you so much, Christine," Meg admitted, hugging her. Christine smiled and took the bag and flowers as the door opened. William stood in the doorway and smiled at her.

"Come. The carriage is waiting. I have ordered my finest horses for our journey so we shall be there quickly."

His eyes fell on the flowers and he arched an eyebrow.

"Who are they from?"

"No one. I have a small request before we return to your estate."

"And what might that be?" William asked, torn between amusement and impatience. Christine smiled.

"I wish to visit my father's grave."

* * *

The journey to the cemetery seemed to last forever. Christine looked out of the window, trying to calm her nerves. Horrible thoughts continually flashed through her mind. The worst was… _what if he's not there?_

What would she do if that was the case? She would have to return to the Viscount's estate and who knew when she would be allowed to visit her father's grave again. She knew that if she ever found Erik again it would be there. She didn't know how she knew. She just did.

She absently pulled a petal from one of the flowers lying in her lap and began to shred it with her fingernails.

William noticed and asked, "Why so nervous?" She looked at him sharply and then shook her head.

"I am just… sad to leave the opera house. That is all." She turned to look out of the window again.

William watched her carefully. He couldn't help but feel a certain amount of satisfaction. It seemed that he had finally broken her. She would not cause trouble now, not with that thing gone from her life and the Opera Populaire behind her. Now she was truly his. A smug smirk spread across his face as he watched her.

Christine chewed her lip and sank back in her seat. A sigh escaped her and she closed her eyes for a moment.

Then she said quietly, "I wish you wouldn't do that."

"And what is that, my dear?" he asked, slightly amused.

"Look at me like that," she replied, opening her eyes to look at him. He smiled slightly.

"In what way do I look at you?"

"As if I'm a prize that you've just won. Something that you can take back to your estate and display to everyone," she answered quietly.

William considered her, that half-smile still on his face. "But I did win you, Christine. You forget that. You are my prize. I had a situation where things could have gone either way, and things turned out in my favor."

"I am aware of what happened, Viscount. I know what my position is as well as you do. So there is no need to look at me like that," Christine said plainly, turning her gaze to look out of the window again.

William couldn't help but chuckle lightly. So there was still a little spirit there. She knew that she was beaten but there was still a spark within her. Interesting…

The carriage drew to a halt outside the cemetery and Christine climbed out. To her dismay, the Viscount also climbed out.

"There is no need to come. There is only one exit to the cemetery and you are here," she told him.

"No matter. It is no trouble to accompany you," he said, offering his arm. Christine pretended not to notice, turning and clutching the flowers to her chest.

There was a slight mist in the graveyard. The sun was setting, sending beautiful golden rays across the gravestones and sculpted angels. Christine walked quietly through the graves, the Viscount by her side the whole time. They turned onto a wide aisle, leading to a stone tomb. The name _Daae_ was carved above the door. Christine turned to William.

"If you could give me a moment…?"

"Of course," he said graciously. She continued down towards the grave alone. Her footsteps made no sound as the mist wove around her skirts. She kept her eyes on the tomb, feeling her heart sink with every step.

He was not here.

She arrived at the steps leading up to the tomb and stopped outside of the door. Something caught her eye and she stared at it. The candle above the doorway had been lit. Her heart began to race. She knelt to place the flowers in the marble vase by the door and looked around in the pretence of arranging the flowers.

No one. She went to the steps and knelt, clasping her hands together and bowing her head in fake prayer. The whole time her eyes darted around, searching for anything that might give her a sign as to where he was. If he was even here.

After a few minutes she heard footsteps and the Viscount rested his hand on her shoulder.

"It is getting dark. We should leave."

"Just another moment…" she pleaded. He nodded and stood behind her as she bowed her head once more.

"Please…" she whispered desperately. "Please come to me…"

"What was that?" William frowned, bending to hear. She got to her feet and looked up at the tomb.

"He's gone..." she murmured. William looked confused and looked towards the tomb.

"Your father has been dead for many years, Christine."

Christine turned away, a lump in her throat. William took her arm. "It will take us some time to reach the estate. We must leave now."

He started to lead her away and the whole time she looked back over her shoulder. And then she froze. William looked at her irritably for a moment and then a look of fury crossed his face as he heard what she had. Faint strains of a violin were coming from somewhere. Christine turned back to the tomb, her heart in her throat. William kept his iron grip on her arm.

"Who is there?" he shouted. Christine stepped back towards the tomb, trembling in fear and excitement. William pulled her back and started to walk towards the exit.

"_Christine… Christine…_" a voice called through the semi-darkness.

"Erik!" she cried, joy flooding her.

William drew his sword, pulling Christine to him so tightly she couldn't move.

"Show yourself!" he roared as Christine struggled uselessly.

"_Release her, Viscount…_" said the disembodied voice.

"Never! She is mine, Phantom!" William shouted. And then he gasped, dropping his sword into the mist.

Christine fell away and gasped as she saw the Viscount drop to his knees. Around his neck was a lasso, being tightened by Erik. He had found another white mask, and he was glaring down at the man in front of him.

"Erik…" she whispered. But he didn't reply. He tugged at the rope again and William clutched at the rope, his face turning red.

"Order your fine horses now, Viscount… take what is mine now…" Erik spat at the pathetic figure in front of him. Christine stared at him.

"Erik, stop! Please, don't kill him…"

Erik looked up at her. She looked at him pleadingly. "Please don't. Don't put something as disgusting as that on your conscience. Let him go. Don't let his blood stain your hands."

"But Christine… he was going to…"

"I know. But it doesn't matter. We're together now," Christine whispered, feeling a tear run down her cheek. She brushed it away furiously. Erik looked down at the wriggling shape in front of him and then let go of the end of the rope. The Viscount fell forward, gasping for breath, and Erik ran to Christine.

He swept her up in his arms, holding her so tightly she thought he would never let go.

"Let's go, Erik. Please let's go," she whispered.

"Yes. We'll go," he replied. They looked down at William. He was breathing harshly, trying to remove the rope from around his neck.

Erik spat down at him, "Next time Christine may not be here to save your worthless life. Stay away from us, Viscount, or next time my rope will not be loosened."

And with that he and Christine walked to a horse that Erik had brought with him. He helped her up and then climbed on behind her. With one final look of disgust at the Viscount, Erik whipped the reins, forcing the horse forward. Christine laid her head against Erik's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart.

In the graveyard, William de Martinez got to his feet and glared after the retreating couple.

"This is not the end, Phantom!" he shouted into the still twilight air. "_This is not the end_!"

**A/N: Sorry for the shorter chapter, but the next one will be much better. Promise. Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! Oh, and the reason I've already written twelve chapters? I never actually wrote this intending to post it. It was my first try at a POTO fic and I was just getting the feel of the characters. I gave up and started Cold Cold Heart instead. And I'm glad I did! But this one kept calling to me and I ended up working on it and figured, hey, why not post it and what people think? But because I was so unsure, I asked for a Beta - enter La Foamy to whom I am eternally grateful. **

** Love you guys. Please keep reviewing! Oh, and don't worry, this won't go up to an R rating. I'm really just not comfortable writing that. In fact, I was a bit nervous with what I put so far! Lol. Anyway, please review. Lotsa luv, Katie  
**


	6. Part Six

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Six**

Christine slept for most of the journey. Only when the horse came to a stop did she jerk awake again.

"Erik?" she said at once, looking up. His gentle eyes looked down at her.

"I am here. I am always here…" he whispered. Christine closed her eyes, pressing her face against his shoulder.

"I thought you weren't there… I saw the candle, but then…"

"I was waiting for you. I wasn't sure if you would come, but a part of me told me that you would," he whispered into her hair.

She looked up at him again. "It's all over now? We can be together?"

"For now and always, if that is what you want."

"It is. More than anything," Christine replied softly. Erik smiled and jumped down from the horse. He held out his hand to help her down and she took it, smiling. She climbed down gracefully and looked up at the house before her. It had been grand once but now it looked empty and in need of repair.

"It will need mending soon. But for tonight it will serve its purpose," Erik said quietly.

He led Christine inside and through dark corridors to a room near the back of the house. He opened the door and went to the fire place, lighting a match and setting it to the logs until they caught. Then he went to several candles around the room, lighting them so light banished the shadows from the room. Christine stood by the door, watching in silence.

Erik finished his work and then turned to her. For a moment they merely looked at each other and Christine found herself amazed at how wonderful he looked. The flickering candlelight added to his mysteriousness, and she found that she had to be near him again. He obviously felt the same because they suddenly rushed toward each other, kissing each other desperately, as if both feared they would be torn apart again.

"I love you," Christine whispered between frantic kisses. Erik pulled back to look down at her and then smiled. She reached up and took away the mask. He flinched away but she seized his hand.

"No! Don't do that!" she said.

"Christine-"

"I'm not afraid, Erik. I don't care what you look like. You're beautiful," she said. Erik looked at her and she tossed the mask onto a table. "No more hiding. No more," she said quietly, putting her arms around his neck. He looked as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, but she kissed him again, and his doubts were washed away in a sea of love.

Their rushed kisses and embraces were suddenly interrupted by a strange noise. Both looked up and saw the kettle above the fire bubbling furiously.

Erik said, somewhat embarrassedly, "… Would you care for some tea?"

Christine looked at him blankly for a moment, and then began to giggle. Erik smiled too, unable to help it. The situation was so foolish one could do nothing but laugh at it. He went to the kettle and poured the boiling water into the teapot. Christine sat at the table, a smile plastered on her face. She watched happily as he prepared tea, setting out food.

After a while he sat down and passed her a cup of tea. He sliced some bread and spread it with butter and placed it on a plate with some chicken and cheese.

"It's not much. I haven't had time to buy food," he said apologetically.

"It's perfect," she said quietly. Erik smiled and Christine sipped the tea. It was deliciously warm and sweet.

* * *

"I think this is all I ever wanted," she said after they had eaten. They sat on a sofa near the fire. It had died some time ago but neither of them wanted to move to relight it. A few candles on the table next to them were the only light in the room. Her head was resting in his lap and his hands were running through her hair.

"This? A dilapidated house and a wanted criminal?"

"Well… the details are a little different," she laughed. She rolled over to look up at him. "But the rest is perfect. All I ever wanted when I was a child to be with someone who would love me, who I loved, and that we would be happy."

"Is that all you wanted? What about your music?" Erik asked. Christine smiled slightly.

"You _are_ my music."

They fell into peaceful silence. Then Christine said, "It's so odd… only a few hours ago I was singing at the Opera Populaire, thinking that by this time I would be tucked away in the Viscount's estate. And instead I'm here with you."

"I hope that is a good thing."

"Of course," she whispered.

They both jumped as a roll of thunder sounded overhead. Erik went to the window and a flash of lightning illuminated him, followed by more thunder. He looked back at Christine. She stood by the candles and then bent to blow them out. The room plunged into darkness. Erik looked through the darkness, searching for her. Then her hand touched his face, stroking the skin. The only sound was the lashing of rain against the window.

"Some time ago I promised you that when you were ready I would be waiting," she said quietly. Erik looked down at her shadowed face. Another flash of lightening illuminated her features for a moment, and in that second Erik made up his mind.

He kissed her softly. She ran her hands through his hair, pressing her face to his as he kissed her hungrily. A roll of thunder sounded, but they ignored it. Christine's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, hurrying to undo them as he put his arms around her to unlace the back of her dress. He pulled his shirt off and she paused to look up at him. He stroked her cheek.

"You are sure that this is what you want?"

"I want nothing more than you," she whispered in return, reaching up to kiss him again.

The next flash of lightening came as Erik lifted Christine in his arms and carried her to the sofa, where they undressed each other as quickly as they could. Neither of them could feel anything except each other, weren't aware of anything except the touch of the other, conscious of anything besides the excitement that both of them felt.

Outside, the storm continued to rage on.

* * *

She slept peacefully in his arms. Erik couldn't believe it, even though her warm weight pressed against him, her long hair lay across him, tickling his skin slightly, her breath warm on his cold flesh. He swallowed hard and looked down at her, praying to whatever god there was that this was not a dream and she would not soon fade away.

She stirred slightly and looked up at him through bright, sleepy eyes. "Why don't you sleep?" she asked.

"I wanted to make sure you would still be here," he admitted. Christine laughed quietly and gently pinched the skin of his arm.

"See? I'm here. I'm not going to leave. You can sleep."

Comforted by the sharp stinging in his arm, Erik finally closed his eyes, letting sleep wash over him.

* * *

"I have a slight problem," Christine said as they ate breakfast the next day. Erik looked up sharply, watching her through the eye of his mask.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious… it's just that… well, all my things were sent on ahead to the Viscount's estate. I don't have any clothes or anything…" she said, slightly embarrassed. Erik smiled.

"Do not worry. There is a village not too far from here. We can have some clothes made for you today."

Christine smiled and looked around the room.

"Where did you find this place, Erik?"

"The owner was quite desperate to sell. Apparently it's haunted," Erik said lightly. Christine laughed.

"You are serious? You bought a haunted house?"

"Ironic, isn't it? The Phantom of the Opera buying a haunted house."

"Well, you certainly know a bargain when you see one. I'm sure we'll manage a ghost or two," she said as she smiled. Erik smiled too.

Christine asked, "What happened that night? When you were thrown out of the Opera House?"

"I went back in," he replied simply, biting into a piece of toast. Christine stared at him.

"What?"

"Christine, I have spent most of my life in that Opera House. I knew another entrance and went down to my cellar to fetch a few things before I left to find a place for us."

"I can't believe you! You were there and you didn't tell me!" Christine said, jumping to her feet and throwing her napkin at his head. He ducked and smiled.

"I didn't want to risk you being hurt."

"But still! You could have told Madame Giry. She could have told me! Or you could at _least_ have written a note!" Christine exclaimed, lunging at him. He jumped up and caught her, spinning her around with a laugh.

"After I had retrieved a few things that were rather valuable to me, including a new mask, I rode out of Paris to find somewhere that would shelter us. I found this house almost straight away and bought it within a matter of hours. The previous owner has left for some distant country, so he will not trouble us," Erik said, holding her to him, his chest against her back. They looked out of the window.

The storm had left a fresh, clean feeling to the air, and the grass was laden with dew.

Christine looked up at him. "And then?"

"I suspected that you would go to your father. You always do when you feel troubled. So I waited there for you. And then, it got to last night, and I began to wonder if you would ever come. And suddenly there you were. With _him_." His arms tightened slightly around her as he continued, "I would have killed him, had you not stopped me."

"I love you, Erik. I could not let your soul be tainted by something so foul and pointless as his death," Christine replied. Erik rested his unmasked cheek against her hair.

"I love you so much, Christine. For so long now, I have loved you. I never dreamed for a moment that you would return my feelings."

"I loved you first," Christine teased. He smirked.

"So you say."

"I did! That first time you sang to me in the chapel, I loved you."

"No. At that time you were a child in love with an angel," Erik replied. Christine thought about it and he asked, "When did you love _me_?"

She considered for some time. "After Hannibal. When you took me down to your home and made me sing for you. I think it was then."

"You asked me to return you that night."

"Yes… but everyday after that I waited for you. But you didn't come. I was afraid that you had left me forever."

"And then we had that lesson and I hurt you," he said softly.

"But the next day you sent me a letter and got me the main part."

"Indeed. And not too long after that the Viscount stole your first kiss," Erik said, somewhat regretfully.

Christine hesitated. "Actually…"

"…there was someone else?" Erik asked, surprised and not altogether happily. Christine smiled.

"I was only a child. There was a boy, a little older than myself who I played with. He was leaving and he kissed me goodbye. I couldn't have been more than eight."

"What was his name?" Erik asked curiously. Christine cast her mind back.

"I don't… Raoul. Yes, that was it. Raoul de Chagny. We never saw each other again and I hardly thought about him after that."

"As long as he doesn't try and claim your kiss again, then we are at peace," Erik smirked.

Christine laughed and said, "You have nothing to worry about. Neither of us does. We're safe here and we can finally be happy."

"Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," Erik said quietly. She looked up at him and continued the line.

"Lead me, save me from my solitude."

"Say you'll want me with you, here beside you," he continued.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too."

"Christine… that's all I ask of you…" Erik murmured, slipping something onto her left hand. She looked down and saw a simple golden band, set with a single diamond.

Erik watched her nervously. Slowly Christine lifted her head to look him in the eye. He looked at her, his face filled with hope. She smiled gently and kissed him.

"Never let me go. That's all I ask of _you_…" she murmured in his ear.

* * *

"Viscount, I am telling you. Christine Daae is not here. She has not been here since yesterday evening, when she left with you," André said, tiredly. The Viscount de Martinez glared at him and then turned on Firmin.

"I don't believe you! Where is she?"

"Please, Viscount, stop this madness. You are free to search the Opera House for as long as you want. Christine Daae is not here," Firmin said.

William stared at them and then turned to his men.

"Search the building!"

They spread out and the managers moved off, muttering crossly. Meg Giry watched from the stairs, where she stood with her mother.

"Maman, why are they searching here? Where is Christine?"

"I do not know, Meg," Madame Giry said quietly. The Viscount caught sight of the pair and beckoned for them. Reluctantly they stepped forward.

"Madame Giry, you are as close to Christine as a mother, are you not?"

"I am, Viscount."

"Then she would surely tell you where she is."

"The last I heard of Christine was that she went to the cemetery with you, last night," Madame Giry said frankly. William made a noise of extreme displeasure. "Please, monsieur… what happened to Christine? Did she simply vanish?" Madame Giry pressed.

The Viscount turned on her. "What happened, you ask? What happened, Madame Giry, is that while we were in the cemetery that foul creature, _Erik_, half strangled me and then kidnapped Christine!"

"Kidnapped her? She did not go willingly?" Madame Giry asked.

"What does it matter, you foolish woman? The point is that my property has been stolen, willingly or not! And I will not rest until I have found her again and that man is strung up by his own cursed noose!" William spat, storming off.

Meg and Madame Giry exchanged startled glances before retreating up the stairs.

"Christine and the Phantom? I don't understand…" Meg said quietly.

Madame Giry said softly, "He was her tutor. The one who sang to her. At some point they fell in love and now they have run away together."

"The Phantom was her tutor? The one she called her Angel of Music?" Meg said in surprise. Her mother nodded.

"Yes. Erik, the Phantom, heard her sing when she was just a child and knew he could make her great. And that was what he spent his life doing. I doubt he ever planned for this to happen, but happen it did."

Meg stared at her mother in silence before saying, "What if he finds them? We can't let Christine be hurt again, nor Erik. There has to be someway to help them."

"If I knew where they were, I could send them a message, but he didn't tell me where he was going. That night… everything was so rushed. I never thought I would see Erik give up his Opera House. But Christine must mean everything to him, for him to give up his music," Marie Giry said quietly.

Meg walked with her for a short while before saying, "If the Viscount finds them I will do everything I can to help them."

"We all will, child. We all will…" Madame Giry said, looking over her shoulder at the searching men.

* * *

Several hours passed before the Viscount de Martinez was finally convinced that Christine was not hiding in some corner of the Opera House. He brought his man back together and headed for the door, most of the occupants of the Opera House watching with hostile gazes. William looked around and then spoke to Firmin and André coldly.

"I am withdrawing my patronage from your Opera House as from this moment."

"We supposed you would. We have already found a new patron," André said in a perfectly composed voice. William looked furious and stormed for the door.

"Viscount?" Madame Giry said, stepping forward. William stopped and looked at her.

"What?"

"I would like to offer you a word of advice," she said pleasantly. He spat at her.

"I have no time for your foolishness, woman." He started towards the door again but she called after him with a smirk playing about her mouth.

"Keep your hand at the level of your eyes."

He paused and looked back at her. She smiled and lifted her hand to eye level.

"You never know what you may find there. Keep your hand at the level of your eyes, Viscount."

* * *

There was nothing to worry about for Erik and Christine that beautiful day. After breakfast, they explored the house together, investigating each room, and noting what would have to be repaired.

"The damage is not as bad as I first thought," Erik commented, "We could easily repair it ourselves."

"Then we shall," Christine said decisively.

Erik led her out to the stables where a small carriage was waiting. Together they put the horses in and sat on the drivers' bench as Erik flicked the reins. He wore a hood over his face to hide the mask.

"I doubt that the Viscount is not searching for us and my mask is certainly distinctive enough for someone to notice," he said wryly as they drove down a narrow lane.

Christine sat thinking. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"What is your last name?"

"I never had one. Ghosts don't have names," he said with a wry smile at her. She frowned.

"You're not a ghost anymore. You should have a name. Besides… I would like to know what my name is to become."

Another smile, but more joyful this time. He glanced at her before returning his eyes to the road.

"Then we shall choose a name. Maybe… Erik le Phantome…"

"Le Phantome? I quite like it. It's rather suiting." Christine laughed. Erik smiled.

"Then that is my name."

"_Our _name," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder as he drove.

The village was reasonably small and quite busy at this time of the morning. People were flocking to the streets to buy and sell their wares. Christine and Erik left the carriage in the care of a stableman and walked the streets to a seamstresses shop. It was empty and they went inside, Erik making sure that his face was covered.

A woman came from the back of the shop and smiled politely. She was short and dumpy, with a round cheerful face and thin brown hair. "How may I help you?"

"I need some clothes made as soon as possible. If you have any made already I will also buy some of those," Christine said.

The woman nodded. "We have a few made, but if you wish to have some made I will need measurements."

"That will be fine," Christine replied, removing her cloak. Erik took it tenderly and she smiled at him.

She stood on the stool as the woman took measurements.

"You are both new to the village?"

"Yes," Christine replied quietly.

"I thought so. We are so excluded out here; it is always quite unusual for someone new to arrive. You and your husband are living here?"

"My fiancé and I have bought a house nearby," Christine corrected her.

She smiled up at Christine and said, "How lovely for you! I think I have all of the measurements now. May I take a name? Your current name or the name you will be taking at least." She returned behind the counter to write it down. Christine glanced over at Erik and smiled softly.

"I am to be Christine le Phantome."

"An unusual name, Madame le Phantome. Your dresses will be ready by the end of next week. Will you be collecting or shall I have them taken to you?"

"I shall collect them. Many thanks."

The woman waved cheerfully and Christine took Erik's arm as they left the shop.

"Christine le Phantome… I like it!"

"I am glad. We should buy some food and some supplies for repairs while we are here, I suppose," Erik said thoughtfully. Christine nodded and they moved through the busy streets, still holding onto each other as though some unexpected fate would tear them apart.

* * *

_Dearest Madame Giry and Meg,_

_ I apologize profusely for not contacting you sooner to assure you of my safety. Current events have been rather frantic and I have been extremely preoccupied._

_ Erik and I are both well and, above all things, happy. After we escaped from the Viscount de Martinez in the cemetery, Erik brought me to a safe place, where we are now living in peace. It is a lovely place, if a little in need of repairs. Erik and I are seeing to that ourselves. It is rather exciting, as though we are building our lives anew. I suppose we are, aren't we? _

_ We are to be married as soon as possible. Our only problem is finding somewhere safe to carry out the wedding. If we can find somewhere safe I hope that you will both be able to join us for that day. There are no two people I would rather have with us, and I am sure Erik feels the same way._

_ I have heard no news of the Opera House or of the Viscount. I am hoping that this means that the Opera Populaire is still open and that all is well. As for the Viscount… I pray everyday that he shall not find us. I cannot imagine he is still searching for us, not after a month. But just in case, I shall not send our address. At least, not yet. When I know it is safe I shall write or even journey to Paris to see you._

_ Please give my regards to Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin, if you think it is safe to do so. Also, please apologize for the many problems I undoubtedly caused during my time at the Opera Populaire. I must go now, for Erik and I are hoping to finish repairing another room by the end of the week. _

_Your faithful friend,_

_Christine Daae_

_P.S: My name shall be changing soon, but I cannot tell you to what here. Until I see you, I remain Christine Daae._

_

* * *

_

Meg read the letter excitedly and looked up at her mother. "She is safe! Oh, I am so relieved… and to be married soon as well!" Madame Giry smiled and took the letter again.

"She does not believe that the Viscount is still searching for her… if only she knew."

The Viscount's search for Christine and Erik had not faltered in the least over the past month. Everyone in Paris now knew of the hunt for the Opera Ghost and Soprano, and William had offered a reward of 5,000 francs for any news of them. So far, no one had stepped forward to claim the reward.

"Are you going to speak with the managers?" Meg asked. Madame Giry nodded.

"I shall do so now. And you, Meg Giry, need to practice. Go."

"But Maman!"

"Go!" the ballet mistress snapped. Meg scurried from the room, looking less than pleased as Madame Giry headed for the office of the managers. Firmin looked up as she knocked.

"Come in. Oh, Madame Giry… is everything alright?"

"I have had news from Christine Daae," Madame Giry said.

Firmin stared and then blinked. "What? She is safe?"

"She and Erik are in hiding somewhere. She sent me this letter but it has no return address." She handed it to the manager who read quickly. His face broke into a smile.

"That is _excellent_ news, Madame Giry. I shall have to tell André at once."

"May I have the letter?"

"Of course, of course… I don't suppose I need to tell you that it would not be wise to spread the news of this contact?"

"I know, Monsieur. Excuse me, but rehearsals will be starting soon," Madame Giry said with a smile.

* * *

"Christine, could you pass me those nails?" Erik said, gesturing to a box. Christine handed them to him and he selected one, hammering it into place. Christine smiled as she watched him. He caught the smile and returned it.

They were outside the house, making the final repairs to the building. Three months had now passed since their arrival and it that time they had worked steadily to repair the house. Erik was now fixing the stable roof. Christine found she could not do much except paint or fetch things, but she did not mind. She was happy enough to sit and watch Erik work. He seemed so different now. He was no longer the Phantom who had walked the corridors of the Opera Populaire. He was… human. Simply a man who she loved more than anything else in this world.

"Another nail, please," he said. She passed him one and he fixed the final plank into place. Then he jumped down and they looked up at the finished work.

"We did it," he commented. Christine smiled.

"We did… it really feels like our home now."

"I know what you mean. We have finally accomplished something and now we can rest for a while."

They stepped inside and walked through the sunlit house. To their disappointment, they had not yet seen any sign of the ghost that had driven away the last owner, but they had discovered that it was a woman who had died several hundred years before on the top floor.

"Maybe she is shy," Christine had commented. They still kept an eye out for her though, hoping she would reveal herself to them.

Erik took her hand as they wandered the sunny corridors. "Did you write to Marie Giry again?"

"Last week. I have not given her the address though. Not until we hear about the Viscount…" Christine said, but her heart could not be dampened by the thought of William. Not when she was so happy. Erik hesitated and she looked up at him.

"What is the matter?"

"… The newspaper," he said. Christine frowned and went to the library, where the newspaper lay on the table. She picked it up and read the headline.

**SEARCH FOR MISSING SOPRANO CONTINUES **

**Christine Daae of the world-renowned Opera Populaire of Paris disappeared nearly four months ago and the search for her continues. Miss Daae was last seen by the Viscount de Martinez in the city cemetery. The Viscount is anxious for her safe recovery and has offered a reward of 5,000 francs for any information leading to the discovery of Miss Daae.**

**The only information known to the public is that Miss Daae was kidnapped by the famous Phantom of the Opera, who also goes by the name of Erik. No surname is known to him but can be easily recognized by either wearing a mask over his face or by having a deformity on the right side of his face.**

The rest of the story was about how she vanished, where to go with information, and the tale of the Phantom of the Opera, dramatically embellished by the journalist. There was also a picture of Christine, from when she performed in Hannibal so long ago.

Christine sank into a chair and looked up at Erik. "I had hoped that he would have lost interest by now. I can't understand why he is still looking for us. No man could possibly desire me that much."

"Do not doubt yourself, Christine. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. And besides, it is not only for that reason that he pursues us. The Viscount is a powerful man and if it is found out that he was outwitted by a girl and a ghost it would ruin his reputation. And reputation means everything to someone like him," Erik said.

Christine sighed and then shrugged, getting to her feet again. "No matter. It simply means we shall have to remain vigilant and perhaps it would be better not to write to Madame Giry again for a while."

"I fear it will not be that simple. Now that a picture of you has been published it will only be a matter of time before someone in the village makes the connection," Erik said, drawing her into his arms. She accepted his embrace gratefully.

"Perhaps it would be better if you went away somewhere. A secluded place…" he murmured but she shook her head.

"No. I won't leave you. As long as we're together, he can't harm us."

In truth he was relieved at her answer. If she had left him now… it wasn't worth thinking about. She smiled at him.

"Come. It's nearly dinner. I'll make us something to eat."

"Very well. Or would you rather have some music first?" he asked.

She laughed. "Erik, you know I couldn't say no to music!"

They went into another room, where Erik had kept his music and instruments. Shortly after their arrival he had gone into town and came back with a smile and a piano. He spent every spare moment he had in the music room, writing and playing. Christine was perfectly happy to sit and listen to him but he had insisted that she continue to sing.

"Even if I am the only one who will hear you, I will not allow your voice to become out of practice," he had told her firmly, and she had no objections to this.

Erik handed her a piece of sheet music and she smiled. It was _Think of Me_. He began to play the piano but she didn't sing. Instead she stared down at the music. Erik paused.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

She looked up and smiled slightly. "I'm fine… I was just remembering the night I sang this for the first time on stage. The night you took me to your home under the Opera House."

He smiled and said, "I remember it well. You sang so beautifully for me that night…"

"Only because you held me like that. You took my breath away," Christine teased.

Erik arched his eyebrow and said, "Did I know?"

"You always did, Erik. Every day I hoped to see you, because the time I spent with you was what I lived for. The most unbearable times were those when you did not contact me."

"If we are being nostalgic, I should tell you about my fondest memories of the Opera Populaire," Erik commented, rising from the piano. Christine smiled and he took her hand, leading her to the center of the room.

"The Masquerade Ball, for example… that despicable Viscount had taken so many of your dances but then Carlotta claimed him for a while."

"I looked up and saw you, dressed in red and black. You crossed the room and came to me."

"I took your hand…" Erik took her hand in his and bowed slightly.

"I recognized your eyes first," Christine told him. He placed his other hand on her waist, guiding her in dance, a smile gracing his mouth.

"We danced among those fools, and I could not tear my eyes away from yours," he said quietly.

"And then the dance ended, and you kissed my hand," Christine said as they came to a stop. Erik smiled an obligingly pecked her hand. Then he kissed her lips and she smiled.

"And you did that. Then you vanished."

"Indeed," Erik said mysteriously. The smile faded from Christine's face as she recalled the next event.

"And then… the Viscount…" Erik pressed a finger to her mouth.

"No, my love. We shall speak of him no longer."

She smiled and placed her arms around his neck, as they continued to dance slowly. They had no idea how long they danced around the room before Christine said quietly, "Shall we sing?"

"We shall," he said, but he kissed her first. She smiled and followed him to the piano to do her scales.

* * *

The Viscount de Martinez looked up sharply as there was a knock on the door of his study. A servant looked in.

"Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but there's a woman here who says she has news of Miss Daae."

"Send her in. Now," William commanded, getting to his feet.

A short, dumpy woman entered and curtsied clumsily. William eyed her distastefully.

"You say you have information for me?"

"Indeed, Monsieur Viscount. You're lookin' for a young woman, very pretty, long dark curly hair, goes by the name of Christine?"

"Christine Daae, that is correct," he said eagerly.

"Dunno 'bout Daae. But there's a woman who looks very similar living just outside my village. Lives with her fiancé. He wears a hood all the time."

William eyed her thoughtfully. "What surname does this woman give?" he asked carefully.

The seamstress smiled. "Phantome, sir. Christine le Phantome."


	7. Part Seven

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Seven**

Two days later Christine told Erik that she would travel to Paris. He had refused to even consider it at the time.

"How can you even consider this, Christine? It's madness!" he had shouted but she had remained calm.

"I will be there and back in a day. I just want to see Madame Giry and Meg and then I shall return straight away. I also wish to visit my father's grave."

"Then I shall come with you," he said decisively.

"We shall be more conspicuous as a pair, Erik. It is perfectly safe. The newspaper said that the Viscount is searching outside of Paris. He will have given up on the Opera Populaire."

After much wheedling and reassuring, Erik had reluctantly agreed to let her go. Early in the morning she rose from their bed, said goodbye, and had taken one of the horses from the stable.

The journey took four hours but Christine was a relatively accomplished rider and arrived before midday. She knew the Opera House would be bustling, preparing for the latest show. Still, she had no wish to take any chances and drew a bonnet over her dark hair, tying a plain cloak about her. She was inconspicuous enough to travel the streets of Paris without anyone giving her a second glance.

Christine found, to her surprise, that she had missed the bustling, busy streets of the capital and enjoyed her ride to the Opera House. When she arrived, she tied her horse to one of the posts in the square and, drawing her bonnet carefully over her head, walked up the steps to the doors of the Opera House.

A wash of memories flooded her as she entered the grand lobby. Smells, sights, and noises sent a wave of nostalgia over her, but she shook them away. It would not do to linger, where anyone could see her.

She walked hastily across the lobby and heard the familiar voice of Madame Giry through a doorway. Christine looked through and saw the older woman scolding a ballerina. The girl curtsied apologetically and rushed away. Madame Giry sighed in despair and turned.

"Madame Giry…" Christine hissed. The woman turned sharply and her eyes widened.

"Christine? Is that you, child?"

"Yes, Madame!" She embraced her old friend and smiled brightly. Madame Giry looked at her fondly.

"My goodness, you look so well! Obviously the country air agrees with you."

"It does, Madame. I wish I could stay longer but I must return by tonight."

"Indeed. But you must see Meg first, she would never forgive me if she found that you had visited and she had missed you."

Within a minute Meg had run into the room and launched herself to her friend.

"Christine! I can barely believe it!"

"Nor can I, Meg!" Christine laughed delightedly. Meg hugged her tightly.

"How are you? And how is Erik? Is he here with you?"

"I'm fine, Erik is fine, and no, he isn't here. He wanted to come, but it would be easier to travel alone. Fewer people would notice us."

"Are you married yet?" Meg asked excitedly.

"Not yet. We have only just finished repairing the house."

"And your name? What name has Erik chosen? He had no surname of his own," Madame Giry inquired.

Christine smiled. "I am to become Christine le Phantome."

"Le Phantome? My goodness, I should have known." Madame Giry smiled.

There as a knock on the door and the two managers entered, looking worried. They both froze at the sight of Christine.

"Miss Daae! When did you arrive?" André asked in surprise.

"Only a few moments ago."

"Then you have not heard?" Firmin said.

"Heard what?" Christine asked in puzzlement.

The managers exchanged looks and André said, "Perhaps it would be better if you sat, Miss Daae."

"Why? What is wrong?" Meg asked.

Firmin looked uncomfortable. "We only found out a moment ago… it was so unexpected…"

"Please monsieur, just tell us." Christine said, fear rising in her chest.

Firmin took a deep breath and said quietly, "The Viscount de Martinez left this morning with a large band of men. According to a member of his household who has been informing us of his movements, he has found out where you and Monsieur Erik have been living. He has gone to find you. He obviously did not know that you were both in the city…"

Christine let out a strangled cry and seized the edge of her chair.

Firmin smiled comfortingly. "No need to be worried. If you are both here he will not-"

"Erik is not here! He is still at our home!" Christine cried. Firmin's eyes widened in horror. Christine jumped to her feet, seizing her hat. "I have to go to him! If the Viscount finds him, he will kill Erik!"

"Miss Daae, wait. We will all accompany you," André said, but she shook her head.

"There is no time! Please, monsieur, when did the Viscount leave?"

"Two hours ago, maybe a little more."

"Then there is still time. If I can get to Erik first we can escape," Christine said, dashing for the door.

Madame Giry seized her arm. "Christine, if you are not there in time… the Viscount will have you."

"I have to try, Madame. Erik is all I have. I cannot lose him again. I would sooner die!" Christine shouted, freeing herself from the grip of the woman, and ran through the door.

Firmin looked to Meg and said, "Go to the stables and have a carriage prepared for us. We shall follow behind Miss Daae."

It was a strange sight for the people of Paris. A young woman, riding like a man at high speeds through the streets of the city, her hair trailing behind her like a banner.

Christine had ridden at a moderate pace that morning but now she pushed the horse to ride at a gallop, one thought filling her mind.

_Erik…_

No! She would not, could not lose him again! Not when they were just about to start their lives over, not when things were going so well for them…

Tears obscured her vision for a moment and she brushed them away quickly, digging her heels into the horse's sides to force him to go faster.

_Please be alive, Erik, please be alive_…

* * *

The skies were darkening with the threat of rain by the time she drew near to the village. People in the streets leapt out of the way of her speeding horse. The poor creature was exhausted but still she pushed him, not allowing him to slow for a moment. Over the top of the hill, and then she would be able to see the house.

The horse climbed to the crest of the hill and Christine's heart skipped a beat in horror. A strange light shone through the darkness, as though light was flooding from the house. But then she saw that it was not just light… but flames.

The house she and Erik had spent so much time repairing and caring for was on fire. In front of the house stood rows of men, all of them brandishing weapons of some kind. And there, in front of them, atop a white horse, was the Viscount de Martinez. He was shouting up at the house and Christine realized with a mixture of relief and horror that Erik was still inside.

She kicked at the horses flank and they began to descend the slope. She curved him around to the side of the house, praying she wouldn't be seen. But there was a shout and she turned her head to see a group of men running at her. She cried aloud and climbed down from the horse, running for a door to the house.

Christine flung the kitchen door open, threw herself through it and bolted it behind her. Almost instantly she was blinded by the smoke. Choking, she ran through the kitchen to the entrance hall of the house. As she did so a window shattered and a man climbed through. Christine felt an icy hand clutch at her heart. It was the Viscount. He started towards her, a sword in his hand.

Christine turned and began to run up the stairs. A piece of flaming wood fell nearby and she screamed but kept moving. She could hear the Viscount's footsteps close behind her and ran onto the landing. She bumped into someone and gasped again, but it was Erik.

"Erik!"

"Quickly, to the roof!" Erik said, pulling her along. The viscount was stumbling through the thick smoke, choking and spluttering.

The roof of the house was a wide, flat balcony. Christine and Erik ran through the door into the night air to feel drops of rain beginning to fall. Erik slammed the door shut and pushed several pieces of rubble up against it.

"You're alive!" Christine cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

Erik held her tightly for a moment before speaking. "We have to escape. The house cannot be saved."

They ran to the edge of the balcony and looked down. The Viscount's men were below, shouting, and Christine could see a carriage approaching over the edge of the hill. The police had arrived.

"Erik, the police are here!"

"Quickly, Christine!" Erik shouted, tying a rope around a stone ornament that was carved into the balcony. "You're going to climb down, onto the roof of the stables. Run to the end and jump down, it should be safe," he said, giving her the rope.

"What about you?"

"I'll follow when you're on the stables. Quickly!"

But the door to the balcony flew open and the Viscount flew through. He looked around, wild-eyed with rage and ran at them, roaring. Erik pushed Christine out of the way of William's sword and seized his arm. The sword hit stone with a shower of sparks. Christine cried aloud as the two men wrestled.

Erik was thrown back against the balcony and hit his head. He slumped to the ground, dizzied by the blow and William looked down on him, lifting the sword. Before he could move Christine had flung herself at him, pushing him away.

"No!" she shrieked. William shouted in anger and seized her, she kicked out at him, but he held tightly.

His voice hissed in her ear. "_Mine… mine_!"

Christine whimpered and wriggled in his grip. His sword found her throat and she fell still as she felt the cold metal blade pushed against her neck.

"Be still… do you know what I have given up to track you and that beast down, you little whore? And you think that I'm going to lose now?" he spat. Christine winced as trickle of blood ran down her neck. It was quickly washed away by the pouring rain.

"Let me go…" she whimpered but William snorted. He looked over at where Erik had been lying and froze.

He was gone. Quickly the Viscount spun around, still holding Christine. He peered through the grey sheets of rain and shouted, "Show yourself, Phantom!"

"Erik, run!" Christine cried but choked as the blade pressed against her skin. William looked around, his soaking blonde hair falling into his face as he howled into the darkness.

"Give yourself up or she dies! Your choice, Phantom!"

A chuckle of laughter came through the darkness and William stared around wildly. Christine felt his grip on her tighten and whimpered in pain. She lifted her foot sharply and brought it down on the Viscount's own foot. _Hard_. He winced and released his grip enough for her to break free and run to the other end of the roof. He advanced on her but suddenly there was a rope around his neck and he was choking. Christine saw the outline of Erik standing behind him, holding the rope in his hands and went to go to him but the Viscount pulled away, tugging Erik after him.

For a moment they teetered on the edge of the balcony before they both fell. Christine heard shouts from below and ran to the edge with a cry. The rope that had been around the Viscount's neck was lying on the ground far below and both men clung desperately to a ledge. Christine reached down, the rain blinding her.

"Erik! Erik, take my hand!" she cried. Erik reached up and swung her for hand but he was too far away. Christine leaned further but couldn't reach. He was shouting up to her but she couldn't hear. Erik pointed to the corner of the balcony. She looked over and saw the rope they had been going to use to climb down hanging there. She ran to the edge and pulled it free, then ran back to Erik and threw it down. He caught it and Christine pulled with all her strength as he climbed up, using the rope.

He fell onto the balcony at her feet, panting and sweating. She felt hot tears spring to her eyes but picked up the rope again.

"Help me!" she cried above the noise of the rain. There was a loud groaning noise and she and Erik exchanged startled glances.

"The house! It's going to come down!" Erik shouted. Christine's eyes widened and she threw the rope over the edge to the Viscount. He swung at it wildly and caught it.

"Hold on!" Christine shouted. Erik seized the rope and they started to pull. But as they did the room leading out to the balcony creaked and began to fall apart. The noise and heat hit them within seconds of each other. There was a scream, a shout, and the rope snapped.

Erik covered Christine with his own body and shouted, "We have to get down!"

"How? The rope's gone!"

"We'll have to jump down onto the stables," Erik said, pulling her towards the edge of the balcony. They glanced over the edge and Erik shouted, "Put your arms over your face and bend your legs as you land. Get down off the roof as quickly as possible."

"Come with me..." she pleaded, but he shook his head.

"One at a time, or the roof could fall in."

She climbed over the edge of the balcony and down onto the ledge. In fear she looked down at the stable roof, far below her, and then back up at Erik. He reached down and she caught his hand with her own. She pressed it to her lips, shaking with fear and shouted up to him, "I love you…"

Christine didn't know if he heard because she jumped a second later, hearing another groan rack the house. She landed in ball and rolled halfway down the roof. A strange numbness ran up her left arm and the thought _my arm is broken_ raced through her mind. But she crawled to the edge of the roof, clutching her arm to her and looked up at Erik. He was standing on the ledge, preparing to jump.

Another groan, even louder than before sounded and a hideous cracking sound split the air. All Christine could remember was heat, rain, noise and the knowledge that Erik didn't have a chance to jump before the house collapsed. And then something hit her head and she fell from the stable roof. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

* * *

Something cool and damp lay across her forehead. Christine frowned slightly and tried to open her eyes. But her eyelids were too heavy and wouldn't open. She waited a moment and then tried again. It was easier this time. Her eyes opened a crack.

The room was dimly lit, but she could already tell that she didn't know it. She looked around, not moving her head. It felt too sore to move at that moment and there was a painful throbbing sensation in her arm. She sensed movement to her left and glanced over. Madame Giry sat there but looked up as she saw Christine's eyes flicker in her direction. She leant forward, removing the damp cloth from her forehead.

"Christine?"

"Madame…" Christine spoke. Her voice was sore and harsh. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. "Where… where am I?"

"The Opera House. What do you remember?" Madame Giry asked. Christine frowned.

"I… remember the house was burning. And I jumped onto the stables and hurt my arm… the Viscount fell from the roof…"

"The Viscount de Martinez is dead, Christine."

This news brought neither joy nor sorrow to Christine. She didn't think she was capable of feeling anything at that moment. A name had burned itself into her brain and she looked up at Madame Giry. "Erik. He didn't jump. Where is Erik?"

Madame Giry closed her eyes and then opened them again. "Erik is dead, Christine."

The numbness that had filled Christine's brain was suddenly pierced by anguish. She stared up at her dear friend for a moment before her face twisted in pain.

"No… no! You are lying! Where is he? Where is Erik?"

"Christine, listen to me. The house collapsed before Erik could jump. They are still clearing the debris but there is no way that Erik could have survived. Erik is dead."

Everyone in the Opera Populaire looked up in surprise, and then terrible realization as a piercing scream of utter pain and sorrow rang through the building.

* * *

When Madame Giry stepped outside of Christine's room and pulled the door closed behind her she found four people waiting for her. Firmin, André, Meg and the Chief of Police.

Firmin asked quietly, "You told her?"

"I did."

"How is she taking it?" André asked hesitantly. Madame Giry gestured at the door. They fell silent and heard wails of sorrow coming from behind it. Meg sniffed hard and pressed her eyes to stop the tears that threatened.

The Chief of Police looked at her. "May I talk to her?"

"I think it would best to give her some time alone. She has just lost her home and the man she loves. Have a little compassion," Madame Giry said quietly.

The Chief sighed and scratched his head. "I don't know what to do, Madame Giry. The Viscount de Martinez is dead but no one knows how. If he fell, or was pushed… some witnesses say that Miss Daae and the Phantom were trying to help him but-"

"Erik. His name was Erik," Meg said softly. The Chief paused and then continued.

"But why would they help him if he was trying to kill them?"

"Because they are not murderers. They would have helped him," Madame Giry said angrily.

The Chief shrugged and said, "Until I have spoken to Miss Daae and gotten her account of what happened, I have to assume the worst."

"Miss Daae is suffering from severe loss, head injuries, and a broken arm. Until she is slightly recovered I will not allow anyone to disturb her," Madame Giry said quietly.

The Chief shrugged helplessly and turned to leave, but Firmin said, "Chief? May I request that when Monsieur Erik's body is found, the mask be sent here? It may serve some small comfort to Miss Daae to have it."

"When we find the body," the officer replied, nodding.

But Meg said, "If. If you find the body."

They looked at her and she shrugged. "How many times has he tricked people before? How do we know he did not simply escape?"

"Why would he do that? If he was alive he would come straight to Miss Daae," André said. Meg considered.

"Not if he thought that he was being held responsible for the Viscount's murder. He would stay away from her to protect her."

"I have no time for theories, Miss Giry. When the body of Erik is found, we shall need to have it identified and then buried," the Chief said, moving off.

Meg looked up at her mother. "Maman? Is it not possible that he escaped?"

"I don't know, Meg. I would expect the Phantom to escape, but Erik was not the Phantom anymore. He was simply a man."

"I think he is alive, Maman. I do not think that they will find the body," Meg said.

André looked at her. "And why do you think that, Miss Giry?"

"Because this was delivered to me this morning," Meg said, holding up something. They all leaned in to look and Madame Giry frowned.

It was Christine's locket.

* * *

When Meg was finally allowed to see Christine the next day she found her friend curled up on her side, staring despondently at the wall.

"Christine?" she said gingerly, sitting down. Christine closed her eyes tightly, a tear trickling from the corner to run down her blotchy face.

"He's gone Meg… he promised that he would never leave me…" she whispered. Her voice caught in her throat and she covered her face with her right hand. Her left arm was bound in a thick, heavy plaster cast. Meg leant over and hugged her carefully, making sure not to hurt her.

"He promised me, Meg… he promised me!"

"I know… I know, Christine."

Madame Giry had told Meg that under no circumstances was she to tell Christine about the locket. It would be far worse to build up Christine's hopes and then have them dashed. Meg longed to tell her friend, to give her some comfort, but she dared not disobey her mother. Instead she held Christine, willing herself not to weep.

Christine looked up at her and said quietly, "Nobody keeps their promises, Meg. My father promised to send me an Angel and he didn't… Erik promised to stay with me forever and now he is gone… how can I go on knowing that all my hopes, my dreams are gone forever?"

"I don't know Christine. I have never loved anyone the way you loved Erik. But maybe you should be thanking God for the time you had together, short though it was. Be grateful for all that you had," Meg whispered.

Christine closed her eyes and again and took a deep shuddering breath. "It's all gone, isn't it? The house, all of our possessions? Everything Erik and I owned is gone. I have nothing left of him."

"You have your ring," Meg said quietly. Christine looked down at the hand poking from the end of her cast. The golden ring shone brightly.

She licked her dry lips and said, "Will they let me stay here, Meg? Will I be able to stay here and sing again?"

"Of course you will. Are you sure that you want to though?"

"I have nowhere else. And… we were happy here, for a short time."

Meg looked at her friend sadly.

Christine looked at her. "I would like to sleep now."

"Of course," Meg said, rising. She drew the blankets up over Christine and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

When Meg entered the theatre shortly afterwards, she found Carlotta throwing another tantrum. She wasn't sure what it was about, costumes or something. One of the ballet girls approached her.

"How is Christine today?"

"Not good, Annette. But she wants to stay at the Opera House. Maybe singing will help her again."

"Maybe," Annette pondered. Madame Giry snapped at them both and they hurried to their places to rehearse.

Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry spoke quietly. "I am not sure that staying here is the best choice. Surely if she were somewhere with fewer memories of him…" Monsieur Reyer said but Madame Giry replied, "No. This is the one place where she will not be haunted by him. Besides, if my daughter's theory is correct and Erik is still alive… he will come for her here."

"Do you believe that he is alive, Marie?" Monsieur Reyer asked.

Madame Giry sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. I thought that I knew Erik better than anybody, but I was wrong about him so many times. But if he is alive he will come for her. Maybe not soon but he will come."

Carlotta appeared to have been appeased and Monsieur Reyer began to conduct the orchestra. Madame Giry turned to her ballet girls and began to instruct them.

* * *

In the bedroom, Christine stared into space. A slight frown crossed her face and she looked down at her body. She began to chew her lip as she rested her head on the pillow and a sigh escaped her mouth.

She didn't know how she knew, but she did. It was as obvious to her as if it were seared into her very skin. Erik may be dead, but she was still alive.

And so was his child.

**A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUN! Yeah, I know. Predictable. Lol, never mind! Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I read and appreciate every single one! And don't worry, I'm still working on this fic. ** **It won't be ending any time soon. Lotsa luv Katie**


	8. Part Eight

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Eight**

Three days later Christine insisted on getting out of bed.

"Madame Giry, if I lie here any longer I shall go mad!" she told the ballet mistress crossly.

Madame Giry recognized the fire in the girl's eyes, a trait she had clearly picked up from Erik. "Very well. But you should wash first."

She helped the girl out of bed and then paused, looking at her. Christine stared back. "What is the matter, Madame?

"I… are you well, Christine?" Marie asked carefully. Christine realized what she was saying and looked away.

"I am well, Madame. But… I am with child."

"Erik's?"

"No one else's," Christine replied shortly. Madame Giry looked rather torn between pleasure and worry. Christine smiled weakly. "I know… no husband, no money, no home… not ideal conditions in which to raise a child."

"How long have you been pregnant?"

"It cannot be longer than a week. I am surprised it was not lost in the accident. But it is alive, and so am I. This child will give me a reason to keep going, Madame. It is something of Erik that I can keep, and proof of our happiness."

She looked happier than Marie had seen her since she had woken. Brightness came from her face, mixed with a ferocious protectiveness of her unborn child. Marie smiled. "I am glad for you, child. I think it would be best if we kept this quiet, at least for the time being."

"I understand. What opera is being performed at the moment?"

"A piece called Il Muto."

"Oh, I believe I have heard of it," Christine said while she washed her face with one hand. Madame Giry patted her dry with a towel and then took her right arm, helping her to walk.

Christine's legs felt weak but with Marie's help she was able to walk to the theatre. There were rehearsals going on but their arrival caused an uproar that sent the practice into disarray. Meg and several other ballet girls rushed over to greet her, all talking excitedly. Christine smiled at their excitement, and Meg and Marie helped her to a seat in the front row.

Annette said, "You look so grown up, Christine! I almost couldn't recognize you."

"I think I have changed a lot in these past months," Christine replied. Monsieur Reyer greeted her happily, enquiring after her health, as did many other members of the cast. Carlotta didn't go to greet her but offered a miniature smile from across the stage, which Christine returned. She knew that they would never be friends, but a truce would do for now.

The rehearsal began again and Christine listened happily enough, wincing occasionally at Carlotta's shrill tone.

"Miss Daae?" She looked around and saw a man she didn't know, wearing a policeman's uniform. She got to her feet and he gestured for her to sit again, taking the seat beside her. "I am the Chief of the Paris Police force. I wished to ask you a few questions about the night…"

"Oh… I see…" Christine said, feeling nervous.

He took out a small pad of paper and a pen. "Could you tell me what happened that day?"

"I was here, visiting Madame Giry and Meg. Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André informed that the Viscount de Martinez had gone to my home to find Erik and myself so I rode home again."

"And when you arrived there?"

"…The house was on fire and the Viscount was outside with his men. I rode down and went through the kitchen door."

"You went into the house?"

"Yes, to find Erik."

He paused and said, "What was your relationship with Monsieur Erik?"

"He was my fiancé. We planned to be married as soon as we finished repairing the house," Christine said quietly.

The Chief noted something down and said, "You entered the house and then…?"

"The Viscount broke a window and climbed through, into the house. I ran upstairs and found Erik there. We went up onto the roof…"

_The intensity of the flames burned her skin… Erik pulled her along, almost hurting her in his haste…_

"We were going to climb down onto the stable roof. Erik used a rope, tying it to the balcony. But the Viscount came onto the balcony and attacked us with a sword. He and Erik fought."

_Erik hit his head…_

"Erik fell and hit his head. The Viscount was going to kill him but… but I threw myself at him, trying to get the sword away from him…"

_He held her tightly, hissing in her ear…_

"The Viscount had a hold on me and then turned to kill Erik. But he was gone… I managed to get away from the Viscount and Erik put a rope around his neck to stop him attacking me…"

_They were at the edge of the balcony, fighting fiercely…_

"They fell over the edge… they fell… I ran to look at they were holding onto the ledge. I went to get the rope…"

_Erik grabbed at the rope, the light of the fire reflecting from the surface of his mask, beads of sweat rolling down his face…_

"I pulled Erik up and we threw the rope back down for the Viscount. But the… the rooms behind us fell down and the rope snapped…"

_"There's still time to escape!" Erik shouted, pulling her to the edge…_

"We went to the edge, above the stables… I went first, onto the ledge… I looked up at him and he told me to jump down… I told him that…"

_"I love you!" she shouted to him…_

"… That I loved him… and I jumped down. I hurt my arm when I landed and I looked up. He was about to jump… and then…"

A tear trickled down her cheek but she didn't move to brush it away. She stared into space, speaking quietly. She licked her lips and said, "I don't remember anymore. I'm sorry."

Christine looked at the Chief. He was watching her with a pitying expression. She looked away and found that everyone had stopped to listen. She shook herself slightly and said, "Is there… is there anything else you need?"

"You and Monsieur Erik were attempting to save the Viscount when he fell?"

"Yes. The rope broke when the rooms collapsed."

"May I ask why he had been searching for you? I am aware that he had been looking for some time, and put a lot of money into his searches," The Chief asked.

Christine forced herself to breathe calmly before replying. "He… he wanted me. Several times while I was here at the Opera House he tried to make me sleep with him but I refused. He ended up threatening to close the Opera House unless I did so."

"Where you already in a relationship with Monsieur Erik?"

"No. He was my teacher, but nothing more. He helped me, when the Viscount beat me for refusing him. He helped me to escape the Viscount, when we were in the cemetery and we went to the house then. We got engaged and were to be married as soon as the house was repaired," she said, matter-of-factly.

The chief noted this down and said, "Monsieur Erik was… the Phantom?"

"Yes."

"We had several reports of him over the years. Threatening notes, injuries to occupants…"

Christine felt rage swell inside her and snapped, "Well, now he is dead and you have no reason to bring it all up again. Is there anything else you want from me or can I go back to mourning the man I loved? Or would you rather condemn him in death as you did in life?"

"My apologies, Miss Daae," he said, looking embarrassed. That pleased Christine and she looked away. He got to his feet and nodded. "I have all that I need. I will not bother you again."

"…Thank you," she replied softly. He walked away and she took a deep breath.

Looking up, Christine saw everyone quickly turn away, not wanting to be caught staring. She fiddled absently with the ring on her left hand and winced as her arm twinged. Madame Giry approached her cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I… well no. Not really. I've been trying to not think about what happened."

"Do you feel better for remembering?" Marie asked.

"Not at this moment. But I feel that I will soon," Christine replied. She rubbed her head. "I think… I think I would like to go back to my room now."

"Of course. Meg, take Christine to her room, please."

* * *

As Meg took Christine, Madame Giry hurried after the Chief of Police. She caught up with him in the lobby. "Monsieur!"

"Madame Giry…" he said, nodding politely.

"I was wondering if you had any news about a body."

He looked awkward. "Well, Madame, that's why I came here. I was hoping to talk to Miss Daae but I can see she's not exactly… ready to talk about it yet."

"Talk about what?" Marie asked carefully.

The Chief rubbed the back of his head. "The thing about the body is… there wasn't one. The rubble has all been cleared but we found no body. But you and I both know that no one could have survived something like that. There was nothing. No clothes, no blood, no body… no mask. Nobody knows what to make of it. Unless someone had already taken the body, but why would they?"

A clock struck the hour and the Chief said, "I must go. If I have any more information I'll be sure to contact you."

"Thank you… thank you…" Marie said, frozen in shock. The Chief left and Marie sank into a nearby chair.

"My god… Erik, where are you?" she whispered to herself. For some time Madame Giry sat in shock and then a small smile crossed her face. "The Phantom of the Opera has escaped once more, it would appear," she said quietly, before getting to her feet and returning to the rehearsal.

* * *

Christine spent the next week moving between her room, the theatre to watch rehearsals, and the practice room. The last thing she was about to do was stop her singing. She knew Erik would have hated for her to do that.

"Besides, between you and the music, we can keep him alive, can't we, Little One?" she murmured to her child.

So she practiced every day and even began to write new songs, using the skills that Erik had taught her over the years.

Most of the people in the Opera House were now aware of her pregnancy. It was hard to keep anything secret in a place like that. Christine soon found several of the cleaning women offering her baby clothes that their own children had grown out of, which she accepted gratefully.

Above all things, she wished to go down to visit Erik's home but Madame Giry refused point blank. "It would be too distressing for you, not to mention the journey is far too harrowing for someone in your condition."

That was something she had noticed about being pregnant. Suddenly you were far too delicate to undertake the most menial of tasks. Christine had quickly grown tired of people offering to help her to a room, or take a bag for her and had ended up snapping at one of the stage hands who rushed to help her sit down. She had apologized afterwards, of course, but had found it rather satisfying.

It was a bright Saturday morning and nearly everyone was in rehearsal. Christine had finished practicing and had decided to get a breath of fresh air. She met André in the lobby and he smiled jovially.

"Good morning, Miss Daae."

"Good morning Monsieur André. I don't suppose that is today's newspaper?" She gestured to the paper tucked under his arm.

"It is. Here. I was going to read it but Carlotta is requesting my presence immediately as something has undoubtedly not met her standards, yet again," he said, sounding rather tired. He passed her the newspaper and she smiled and thanked him.

Christine sat on a seat in the square, reading the articles with little interest. She was about to return to the Opera House when a small article, barely a paragraph long, caught her eye.

**…The house on the outskirts of the village was burned down almost two weeks ago. The death of the Viscount de Martinez was a tragedy for all involved, but no other bodies were discovered. Miss Christine Daae, a survivor of the fire, is currently recovering in Paris. The house has been purchased by an unknown aristocrat from Paris and…**

Her breath seemed to freeze in her throat as she reread the line. _No other bodies were discovered._

Could that mean…? Was it even possible?

Christine jumped to her feet and ran across the square, causing a horse to whinny, startled. She ran up the steps to the Opera House and threw herself through the door.

Rehearsals had ground to a halt as Carlotta threw yet another fit about something or the other. Everyone jumped as the door was flung open with a loud bang, and Christine ran full pelt down the centre aisle, waving a newspaper. Madame Giry caught her.

"Christine, what is the matter?"

"Madame, look! Look!" Marie read the short article and she looked up at Christine.

"Christine, it does not necessarily mean that-"

"No other bodies! None were found!"

Christine stopped and stared at her friend's face in disbelief. "You… you already knew? You knew that they never found him?"

"The Chief of police told me last week."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Christine-"

"Why! How could you not tell me that there is even the slightest possibility that Erik is alive?" Christine shouted.

Everyone started to talk excitedly and Madame Giry said quietly, "I did not tell you in case it turned out not to be true."

"How could you? Erik may be alive and you knew this whole time?" Christine whispered.

Marie took a deep breath. "I was only trying to protect you, my child. I admit that both Meg and I suspected that he may have escaped but we did not tell you in case we discovered that he was dead. The shock of that could injure you and your child."

Christine turned to Meg. "You knew as well?" Meg reached into her pocket and held out something. Christine took the locket in amazement and held it to her chest. "My god… how did you get this!"

"It arrived in the post for me. I was going to give it to you when we found out what had happened to Erik."

Christine sank into a seat and buried her face in her hands. No one spoke and Marie touched her shaking shoulders.

"Christine, we still don't know whether or not Erik lives. And if he does, we have no idea of where he is."

"I don't understand… if he is dead, they would have mentioned it in the newspapers. But if he lives… why hasn't he come to me, or written me a note, or anything?" Christine mumbled.

Marie hesitated. "I don't know, Christine. We have been wondering this ourselves. If he thinks that he is being held responsible for the Viscount's death than it is possible he is staying away to protect you."

Christine got to her feet and began to pace, running her hands through her hair, thinking furiously. "Where would he go? I'm sure he would stay in France… but where? He would not stay at an inn or a hotel, it would be too public. He would want privacy."

"Christine, maybe you should wait for him to contact you," Meg suggested, but Christine frowned and shook her head.

"No. You don't understand. I have to find him. He is everything to me…" her eyes glazed over and she turned to André and Firmin.

"Monsieurs, when you purchase land, there are records made, aren't there? Where are they kept?"

"Well, they're kept in official buildings. But do you think that Monsieur Erik would have given his name if he had bought land?" André replied.

Christine shrugged. "I don't know. Where are the official buildings?"

"Here, in Paris. I'll take you to them."

"I'm coming, too," Madame Giry said.

* * *

Christine stared around the archives of records and felt her heart sink. How could she possibly find anything here?

"Everything is kept by date and name," the clerk told them.

Firmin and André looked at Christine. "Well, it would have been sometime in the past two weeks, I suppose," Firmin said. The clerk looked at him over the top of his spectacles.

"Is there a name? It would narrow our search down considerably."

"Erik. The Christian name of Erik," Madame Giry said, but the clerk shook his head.

"I'm afraid everything is kept by surname. If you have no surname we have a long search ahead of us."

"Le Phantome. The surname is Le Phantome," Christine said quietly. Firmin and André exchanged half exasperated, half amused glances and Madame Giry smiled slightly.

The clerk went to one of the drawers and began to search through. It took him some time. Christine paced the room impatiently. Firmin and André sat in silence and Madame Giry stood quietly by the door. "We have only two records by the name of Le Phantome in the last week. But only one with the Christian name of Erik," the clerk said eventually, placing two files on the desk. Christine looked up quickly and the clerk read the information.

"A house belonging to Erik le Phantome was burned to the ground about two weeks ago. But it's quite odd – the name of Le Phantome was only registered _after_ the house was bought."

"Is that all there is on Erik le Phantome?" Firmin asked. The clerk nodded.

"I'm afraid so, sir."

"What about the other Le Phantome?" Madame Giry asked. The clerk checked the file.

"Joseph Le Phantome. Lives in Calais and owns three farmlands."

"That's not him," André said. The clerk shrugged.

"I'm afraid that's all we have."

The three older people turned to leave but Christine spoke quietly.

"What about Daae? Is there anything under the name Daae?" The clerk returned to the drawer and began to search.

Firmin said gently, "Miss Daae, I don't think that we're going to find anything."

As he said this another clerk came out of the office and looked at them in surprise. "Good morning."

"Good morning."

"What are you looking for?" he said, smiling helpfully.

"Daae. But I don't see anything," the first clerk said.

The second clerk tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Daae… Daae… that sounds familiar for some reason. Try under Chimen. Jonathon Chimen."

The four hopefuls stood nearby, waiting impatiently. The first clerk took out a file and flicked through. A smile crossed his face and he waved an address at them. "An Erik Daae rented a small house outside of Paris two weeks ago. Is this who you're looking for?"

Christine took the piece of paper and her face broke into a smile. She turned and hugged each of them in turn. "It's him! It must be him! He's alive!" she laughed delightedly and turned to the astonished clerk. "Thank you! Thank you so very much!"

"You're welcome," he replied, clearly startled as Christine practically ran out of the office, with the three companions just behind her.

* * *

"I have to go to him. I can be there by nightfall if I leave now," Christine said as the carriage journeyed back to the Opera House.

"Don't you think it would be better to maybe write first? Just so he is aware that it is safe," Firmin suggested. Christine shook her head.

"I have to see him. I _have_ to."

She ran a hand absently over her stomach and looked out of the window at the passing town. She chewed her lip slightly and turned to look at Madame Giry. "I truly believe that it is him. If… if it is not…" she frowned as if she did not even want to consider this possibility, "I will stop searching. I will wait. But I must go to this Erik Daae and make sure before I do that. Is that acceptable?"

"Very well. We shall go there now," Madame Giry said, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

* * *

André and Firmin climbed out at the Opera House and wished Christine luck before the carriage set off again, heading for a small village outside of Paris.

Marie watched Christine, who sat opposite her in the jolting carriage. The girl was flushed and glowing with excitement and anticipation. Marie couldn't help smiling at the determined look on her face.

"Madame?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"What is it like to have a child? Not to give birth to one, but to be a mother? I never really thought about it before…" Christine asked, a hand on her belly. Marie smiled.

"It's wonderful, Christine. It truly is."

"I just… it's hard to believe that there is a person, a real person inside of me, part of me. Is it like having another part of yourself?"

"A little like that. But I suppose it's more like having a part of whomever it was that fathered the child. I know that I love Meg with all of my being, and when I hold her it is like I am with her father again."

"So… when I have my child, I will have Erik again?" Christine asked. Marie smiled.

"In a way."

Christine looked out of the window again, a small smile on her mouth.

Marie said, "When your child kicks for the first time, you will know what it is like. That is when you'll truly know what it is like to have a child in you. For now he or she is sleeping but when they wake and kick out, you will be able to feel it."

"I'm afraid," Christine murmured.

Marie frowned. "Of what, child?"

"I don't know… what if this man isn't Erik? What if I never find him? How can I raise a child alone?"

"I did."

"You are stronger than I am! You always have been, Madame. I have always had Erik nearby, to care for me. Even when I was a child and believed that he was my Angel of Music, he was always there when I needed him. How can I… how can I have a child without him?" Christine whispered, her voice choking slightly.

Marie took her hands and looked her in the eye. "You will never be alone, Christine. You will always have Meg and me. And you will always have the memories of Erik. I know that you will be a wonderful mother."

Christine smiled, rubbing at her shining eyes. "Thank you, Madame Giry."

"You are welcome. Now, tell me what you plan to do if this man is Erik."

"If it is him… I will have to talk to him. If he wishes to stay at this cottage, then I shall stay with him. Wherever he goes, I go too. I will tell him that he is not wanted by the police. I would prefer for us to go to Paris, but it is his choice…"

"And what will you tell him about the child?"

Christine shook her head. "I don't know. I don't even know if he ever wanted to have children. I will have to tell him of course."

"I see. You look tired, Christine. Why don't you sleep for a while?" Marie said. Christine obediently closed her eyes and the rocking of the carriage quickly lulled her into a light slumber.

* * *

She woke several hours later to find them traveling through a small town. She sat up quickly and looked out of the window. Marie touched her arm. "Be calm. We're nearly there."

Christine felt her heart start to race as she looked out of the window, chewing her lips viciously. Marie noticed but didn't comment. Christine's hand went to the ring on her left hand. Her arm was aching but she ignored it.

The carriage went up a short path and the driver called down. "This is the place." Christine threw open the door and climbed out quickly, gazing at the house in front of her.

Marie took her arm and said, "Would you like me to come?"

"No… no, I'll go alone," Christine replied, moving up the path to the front door. The house was dark, but it was only early evening. She hesitated outside the door and then knocked on it hard.

There was no reply. Christine frowned and knocked again, but no one answered the door. She went to the window and looked in, but there was no sign of anyone.

"You're looking for Monsieur Daae?" She turned and saw an elderly man driving a small cart down the road. She nodded.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Left this morning. Someone came running into the inn saying as how he had told the owner he didn't want to rent the place after all."

Christine's heart plummeted into her stomach and she leaned against the door, covering her face with her hand. "Do you know where he went?"

"'Fraid not. Someone at the inn might know."

"We shall go there anyway. For now, we need to rest. We will return to Paris in the morning," Madame Giry said. Christine looked up at the house and then back to the old man.

"What was Monsieur Daae like? Did you ever see him?"

"Saw him from a distance. Dressed all in black and wore a hood over his head."

He had been here. He really had been here. That was some small comfort to her and she thanked the man before returning to the carriage. Madame Giry said, "A night in the inn and we'll leave for Paris first thing in the morning. And at least now we know that he is alive."

"Yes. He lives," Christine said, with a weak smile. Madame Giry frowned.

"What troubles you?"

"…He doesn't want to be with me. He must have known that I would come to find him and left before we could arrive."

"Christine, that's not true."

"How do you know that it is not the truth? What other explanation is there? Erik has gone again and he is obviously not in love with me as he claimed," Christine said harshly. Her sorrow was quickly becoming replaced with anger. Madame Giry frowned.

"It has been a long day. Let us have something to eat and some sleep, and you will feel better in the morning."

"I'm not going to look for him, Madame. He does not want to be found. So I shall not look. I shall go back to the Opera Populaire and remain there." Christine said quietly. She turned to look out of the window and Marie Giry felt her heart go out to the girl. And in her mind she silently cursed Erik for causing Christine such pain and doubt.

* * *

At the inn, Madame Giry left Christine at a table in the corner and went to speak with the bartender.

"Excuse me, monsieur, is there food available?"

"There is. Meat pie and potatoes."

"Three portions. For myself, that girl, and the man at the end of the bar." She pointed to the driver and handed some money to the bartender. As he started to clean some mugs, she asked, "I don't suppose you have any information on Monsieur Daae? The man who was staying in the house outside of the village? I believe he left this morning."

Several people started to talk quickly but Madame Giry waited for the bartender's reply. "Don't know much about him, I'm afraid. Arrived a few weeks ago and was rarely seen. Came in here once but left after one drink. Very quiet man."

"Did he wear a hood?"

"Indeed he did. And a white mask, underneath. Only on one side of his face though."

Marie felt her spirits lift and asked quickly, "Do you know where he has gone? It is urgent that I find him."

"Not sure. Someone else might know."

He looked around at the eager faces and one man, red in the face from drink slurred, "'Eard 'e was 'eading for Paris."

"Paris?"

"Yeah, someone said 'e took a 'orse and rode towards the city," another man said.

"Do you know anything else?"

They turned and saw Christine on her feet, her eyes wide. One man leered at her but Madame Giry snapped at him and he turned away.

"Please, does anyone know anything else about him?" she asked, looking around the bar.

A girl who was clearing dirty cups said nervously, "I heard a rumor that he lost his wife in a fire. Did you hear about the fire, a few weeks ago? The house was burned to the ground and a nobleman died. A girl in the village said that he owned the house and his wife was killed in the fire."

"I heard something like that too. He mentioned it on the night he came here for a drink, I think. I asked him what he was doing somewhere like here, somewhere so far out of the way. He said he was mourning for his fiancé," said another man.

Christine clutched the edge of the bar, her head spinning. Madame Giry reached for her but she waved her away. She turned to look around and said, "Do you know if he read the newspaper this morning?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," the bartender said, pouring a drink.

"I think he does. He had it delivered to the house," someone said.

Christine asked, "Do you have a copy of today's paper? The local one."

Someone passed it along and she read hastily, skimming over each article until she found one very similar to the article she had seen in the newspaper from Paris.

"Madame, look!" she cried, pointing. It was very much the same – the Viscount's death, no other bodies found, Christine Daae recovering in Paris…

She felt tears well up and turned to the older woman. "He thought I was dead! Madame, he thought I was dead! That's why he didn't come for me. He must have seen this and returned to Paris to find me!"

"_You're_ his dead wife?" the bartender said in surprise.

"Fiancée… Madame, I have to get to Paris! I can't stay the night, I must return now!"

"Very well, I shall order a carriage-"

"No… no, it would take too long. Is there somewhere that I could borrow a horse?" she asked the bartender.

A man said, "I own the local stables. I'll rent a horse to you."

"Thank you! Thank you all so much! May God bless you all!" Christine cried, running to retrieve her cloak.

Madame Giry caught her arm. "Christine, you cannot ride to Paris in your condition!"

"Madame, I will be fine. I can and will ride with or without a broken arm and child," Christine replied, following the stableman. She turned to thank the bartender and locals again before going through the door.

Madame Giry turned to the bartender. "I suppose I should make that two meals, then."


	9. Part Nine

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Nine**

The journey to Paris seemed unbearably long for Christine, even though she rode as quickly as she could. The roads were long and dark but soon she saw the lights of the city shining ahead. It was only when she entered the city that she realized she didn't know where Erik could be.

The Opera Populaire seemed the most likely place, so she rode there. She went into the lobby and bumped into Monsieur Reyer. "Miss Daae! Did you find him?"

"No… but I know he is in Paris. He thought I was dead, that was why he didn't come. Has he been here?"

"No, but I doubt very much that he would walk through the front door. Perhaps he is using one of his many passageways," Monsieur Reyer suggested. Christine stared at him and then thanked him before darting towards her bedroom.

She pressed her hands against the mirror, trying to open it. "How on earth did you do this, Erik?" she muttered. But it was no good, she couldn't move the glass. In irritation she slapped the surface, her fingers catching one of the patterns as she did so. Without warning the glass slid back smoothly. Christine stared at it then smiled, stepping into the dark passageway, holding onto a lamp as she did so.

Thoughts of her first journey here ran through her brain. The way Erik had guided her through the darkness, the way the music had flooded her very soul…

"Erik?" she called. Her voice echoed back, but there was no other reply.

It took her some time and she was tired, her arm ached, and she felt a little ill. But she pushed on. Knowing that Erik was somewhere nearby was enough, to know that he could be here with her… a thrill went through her and she continued.

Luckily the boat was resting gently on the shore. Erik must have left it here the night they had sung on stage. She climbed in and used the pole to push herself along. It took her a long time as she wasn't quite sure of the way and had to turn back several times.

"Erik? Are you here?" she called desperately, but there was still no reply.

After what seemed like forever Christine found his home. She climbed ashore and looked around. The candles were unlit and everything was covered with a fine layer of dust. She ran a finger over the organ's keys. They were dusty as well. It was clear that no one had been here in weeks.

"Erik, please… if you're here, please, answer me!" she cried. No one replied. Christine sank onto the organ stool, resting her head in her hands. "I didn't know… I thought you were dead… I thought you were dead…" she sobbed, her exhaustion finally overcoming her. Slowly she went to the swan shaped bed and rested on it, not even trying to fight sleep.

When she awoke it was to find Madame Giry shaking her. "Christine… come along. You should come upstairs now. He is not here."

* * *

"There has been no sign of Monsieur Erik, but we have people searching for him. I should think that once he discovers you are here he will come," Firmin said. Christine smiled her thanks and Monsieur Reyer cleared his throat. Firmin nodded. "Very well. Monsieur Reyer has a suggestion." 

Christine turned to him and he said, "Well… I cannot for one moment say that I know Monsieur Erik as well as you do. But from what I understand, he is something of a… showman. He likes his magnificent entrances, as he did on the night of the opera."

Christine nodded. "Yes…" she said, not understanding. Monsieur Reyer smiled.

"We are holding a gala tomorrow night, as you may be aware. Madame Giry and I have discussed it and if it were to be widely advertised that you are singing tomorrow night, and if Box 5 were left empty…"

"He might appear!" Christine finished for him.

"What do you think?" André asked.

Christine looked down at her engagement ring and then smiled. "What song did you have in mind?"

* * *

She spent all of the next day rehearsing the song. Monsieur Reyer insisted that they go over it again and again and she had no problems with that. It had to be perfect. It _had_ to be. 

Madame Giry had a costume prepared for her, with long, flared sleeves to cover the heavy cast. Meg made sure that Box 5 was clean and ready. It seemed that everyone in the Opera House was involved in some way.

As the evening drew near Christine went down to the chapel, where she prayed to her father. "Please, Father… please help me this night. Please send him to me…" she murmured. The candle flickered slightly and Christine sighed, looking down at the sheet music in front of her. "I want to please him. Help me to do well, Father. I shall try my best."

"Christine? It's nearly time," Meg called. Christine got to her feet and looked down at the candle. A smile crossed her lips.

"Please send my Angel of Music," she said one last time before turning to face her fate. For a moment she thought she heard something but then it was gone. She shook her head and continued to the stage.

* * *

Christine waited to enter onto the stage, clutching her locket in one hand. There was tumultuous applause as the ballet dancers finished their routine and left the stage excitedly. Madame Giry kissed Christine's cheek. "Good luck my child." 

"Thank you, Madame." Christine smiled as her name was announced and more applause rang through the theatre. She walked onto the stage and her eyes instantly lifted to Box 5.

It was empty.

She bit her lip and then looked down at Monsieur Reyer who nodded to the orchestra and began to conduct them. The soft music started and Christine looked around the theatre once more. Firmin and André were sat in another box, and the crowd waited for her to sing. The cue arrived and she opened her mouth.

_Think of me_

_Think of me, darling_

_We never said goodbye_

_Think of me_

_If you are here, please_

_Once again, I'll try_

_If you find _

_That once again I'm here_

_And if your heart will let you be_

_If you can ever do so_

_Will you sing with me?_

_We never said our love was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea_

_But if you can still remember_

_Come and sing with me_

_Think of what we had and what it means_

_Don't think about the way things might have been_

_Think of me_

_Think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine how_

_How good it felt to_

_Have you near my side_

_Recall those days_

_Look back on all those times_

_Think of what we could still do_

_There will never be a day when_

_I won't long for you_

The music swelled to a triumphant crescendo and the audience started to applause. Christine felt breathless, her eyes still searching for a glimpse of him but finding none. Firmin and André were smiling down at her but she didn't return it. Her eyes went once more to Box 5 to find it still empty. Monsieur Reyer nodded to her and she began to sing again.

_Sing with me_

_Darling, please sing with me_

_If you are here then_

_Know it's true_

_It is all I ever wanted_

_Just to sing… with you!_

She ended on a perfect note and the crowd cheered again. Christine smiled slightly and curtseyed. Monsieur Reyer looked up at her expectantly but she shook her head. He was not here. She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip to stop it from shaking. Please, she thought, please let him sing to me. A solo violin, the sound of his voice, _anything_…

Christine turned and walked from the stage. Several members of the chorus waited for her and Meg stepped forward. "I am sorry, Christine…"

Christine walked straight past, her eyes fixed on something ahead of her. Madame Giry touched her arm. "Christine?"

"He's not going to come, is he? No. Of course he isn't… I suppose I'm still just a little girl praying for an angel," Christine said in an extremely calm voice.

Madame Giry frowned. "Christine, he may not have known."

"He knew. You can't say he didn't, he knows everything that happens in this Opera House," Christine said, still perfectly composed. She took a deep breath and looked at Madame Giry. The ballet mistress shuddered at the cold look in her eyes. Christine removed the engagement ring form her left hand and passed it to Marie. "Here. If you see him, give him this. If he's here, he will come to you."

"What…?"

"I'm leaving. I'm not sure where I'll go. But I'm not going to stay here."

And with that, Christine Daae walked on to her room. Madame Giry stared at the ring in her hand and closed her eyes.

"Oh Erik… what have you done?"

* * *

Christine was packed that same night and summoned a carriage. Firmin and André told her that she was welcome to stay but she simply replied, "Too many ghosts. There are too many ghosts here." 

She stood on the steps to the Opera House, waiting for the carriage when Madame Giry spoke from the shadows.

"What shall I tell him, Christine? What do you want him to know?"

"Give him the ring. That will be enough. Tell him you know no more than that."

"And of the child? Surely he should know about your child."

Christine didn't turn to speak. Instead she said in a dignified voice, "Tell him nothing. Nothing of me or my child. He has made it clear that he wants nothing to do with us."

"Christine, you are making a mistake. Isn't it possible he isn't here?"

"He left hours before we did and would go to nowhere other than this Opera House. He was here," Christine said quietly as the carriage rode up.

Madame Giry looked at her. "How do you know? How do you know for sure?"

Christine went to the door of the carriage and opened it. But she paused and looked back at her old friend. Her face was blank, but hurt shone from her eyes more brightly than the lamps that blazed above them.

"I know because he was there in the chapel. He lit my father's candle as he used to when I was young. Goodbye, Madame Giry."

She climbed into the carriage, pulled the door closed, and the carriage set off. Marie stared after her and then went into the Opera House. Down a corridor, through a hidden door, down a flight of steps, along a walkway…

"Erik?" she said, looking around the room. There was no sign of life. The room was as dusty as it had been when Christine had been there. But Marie went to a drape and pulled it away to reveal a narrow walkway through to another small room. She marched through and looked at the figure of the man hunched up on the floor.

"Erik, why did you not go to the gala? She was there, she was waiting for you!" Marie said harshly. Erik did not move. Marie knelt and moved his arms away from his face. He shuddered in pain. His mask lay discarded to one side and the full deformity of his face was on show. But it was not that which made Madame Giry stare at him in pity.

"Oh Erik… I am so sorry…" she whispered, placing her arms around him. It was then that the Phantom of the Opera started to weep like a small child whilst his oldest friend comforted him.

Christine Daae sat in the carriage, heading out of Paris. She couldn't know that at that moment Erik, The Phantom of the Opera, Opera Ghost, whatever you would call him, was at that moment weeping.

She couldn't know that he was mourning the loss of the two most precious things he knew of this cruel world.

She couldn't know that he wept for her.

Or that he wept for the loss of his right hand, without which he could never play his music again.

She couldn't know.

* * *

"I thought she was dead, Marie. Nobody told me that she had survived," Erik said miserably the next day. He turned the engagement ring over in his left hand. The stump of his right wrist was wrapped in cloth. Marie leant forward and started to change the dirty bandages. Erik winced but did not show any further sign of pain. Marie couldn't help but shudder at the weeping wound. 

"Erik, this is infected. You have not had it properly tended to."

"I saw in the paper… that she was alive… I came to Paris at once."

"I know. Christine and I went to the house to find you but you had already left. Is there clean water somewhere?"

Erik didn't reply. She made an impatient noise and went to find clean water. A jugful stood nearby and she started to clean the wound. He stared down at the ring in his hand.

"You should have gone to the gala."

"I couldn't Marie. She is… she is perfect. An Angel. I was already marked by the devil and now he has taken my music from me. I do not deserve her."

"You're a fool, Erik. You always have been. You see the world as though it were only one way. Do you think Christine cared about your face the night she kissed you on the stage? Do you think she would care now your hand is gone?" Marie said furiously, patting the stump a little harder than was absolutely necessarily. Erik winced again and attempted to pull his arm away but she snatched it back, muttering under her breath.

As she wound fresh bandages around the clean wound, Erik said quietly, "All I could offer her was music."

"My god, Erik. You may be heralded as a genius, but I've never met anyone so stupid. Christine didn't want your music, she didn't want anything from you, except yourself. And now she has gone from this Opera House forever," Madame Giry said angrily.

Erik looked at her. "Then why did she send back the ring?"

"Because she thinks that you don't love her. Forget what I said earlier, you're _both_ fools! I've never known two people to go through so much suffering simply because they will not communicate with each other!"

Marie got to her feet and threw the dirt bandages onto the freshly lit fire. "You lit the candle but you couldn't tell her that you were there? You could not have simply gone to her? Why do you always have to be so mysterious, Erik?"

"I was going to, but I saw her there in the chapel. I heard her sing on the stage and I thought-"

"You think too much. Now she is gone and no one knows where! Unless you leave this very moment you will not be able to catch up with her," Marie said crossly. But Erik didn't reply. She turned angrily to see his eyes had closed, beads of sweat trickling down his face. He had gone very pale and was trembling slightly. The infection had spread further than she had thought, Marie realized. She sighed. He would not be able to travel for some time. He would need rest.

"Come, Erik. We must get you to bed," she said quietly, helping him to his feet.

Once he was covered with blankets, Marie returned upstairs. He needed medicine and urgently. Meg was waiting for her in her room.

"Maman? Christine is gone?"

"She is, but we have other things to worry about. Monsieur Erik is extremely ill. I need you to go to this address and get some medicine," Marie said, scribbling on a piece of paper.

Meg frowned. "I thought he wasn't here?"

"He is and he is dangerously sick, so don't argue with me. Go to that address. Here is money, pay whatever they ask. Go!"

Meg darted from the room as her mother snapped the instructions. Marie sank into her chair and rubbed her temples. What a fine mess this was turning out to be…

* * *

Erik's illness lasted for some time. There was a point where Marie feared that he would die. He just seemed to have given up. More than once he had woken and reached out, calling for Christine. Marie and Meg took turns to watch him. One time Marie had come down to find Meg standing outside the bedroom in tears. 

"He's calling for her again… he's crying… I couldn't… I…" Marie hugged her weeping daughter. This wasn't fair on her but nothing that she said would prevent Meg from helping.

It was two weeks after the infection took hold that Erik's fever finally calmed. Marie woke to find him sitting up, reading.

"How do you feel?" she asked. He looked at her. The illness had left him looking more skeletal than usual and his eyes seemed sunken in. He was so pale…

"I've felt worse," was all he said. Marie touched his forehead.

"You feel fine, but you're still weak. Do you want food?"

"Yes, please, Marie," he said, not looking up from his book.

The door opened and Meg came in. She looked at him in surprise. "You're awake!"

"Indeed, Miss Giry," he said calmly. Marie turned to her daughter.

"Fetch some food. Bread and soup will suffice."

"Yes Maman."

When Meg had left Marie said, "Erik, do you remember what happened before you fell ill?"

"Of course I remember, Marie. I'm not an idiot," he said sharply, putting the book to one side. Marie couldn't help rolling her eyes.

"Well? Do you intend to find her?"

"Miss Daae has made it quite clear that she wants nothing further to do with me. And in any case, if I did choose to search for her, where do you suggest I look?"

"You're just going to let her go?"

"What do you suggest I do, Marie? Hunt her down and force her to take me back? Excuse me, but I do still have a few strands of dignity."

"How selfish are you? Christine is little more than a child and you are going to let her have-"

She bit her tongue sharply. Erik looked at her quickly, "What were you about to say?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Marie Giry. I know you better than that."

"I cannot tell you."

She turned to leave but then she paused and looked back at the figure in the bed. "And Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Do try and wash. You smell terrible."

* * *

"I hope it will serve your needs?" the man said. Christine looked around the house and nodded. 

"Yes. It will be perfect. I can pay you now, if you prefer."

"Indeed. There's a little paperwork but your husband could-"

"I have no husband," Christine said quietly.

The man looked rather embarrassed and said, "My apologies."

"I will look at the paperwork now and pay you. Also, I will be needing a maid. Do you know where I could hire an honest girl?"

"There are plenty in the village. I'll send one to you this afternoon."

"Thank you, monsieur," Christine said.

The house was perfect. Near to a village, clean, already furnished, close to the border of Switzerland. So close, in fact, that the mountains could be seen as a haze on the horizon. As the man dug in his case for the contract, Christine ran a hand over her stomach.

"Well, Little One, here we are. Our new home."

"If you could sign here…" the man said, pointing to a line. Christine bent and signed it as _Christine Le Phantome_.

"Thank you very much, Madame le Phantome. It has been a pleasure," he said with a smile.

Christine shook his hand. "Thank you for your help, Monsieur. And if you could send someone as soon as possible?"

"I'll go now. Welcome to our village."

When he left Christine sank into a chair. Her arm itched inside its cast, a sign that it was beginning to heal. The cast was not due off for another two weeks, though.

"This is an adventure, don't you think Little One? Our own home, starting a new life. A maid soon, I hope. We will be fine. I can't wait for you arrive. I expect that you will be musical. How could you not with parents like yours? Maybe we could find a piano somewhere and have it brought here. I wouldn't want to give up my singing. What do you think, Little One?"

She laughed and got to her feet. "Yes, we will be fine."

**A/N: OK, I was just reading all of the lovely reviews you people left and thinking _Wow, they're gonna hate me for this chapter!_ Lol, but I promise that Erik and Christine WILL be together eventually!**

** Also, I just bought another version of the soundtrack! I have the 2004 movie one and I just got one with Claire Moore and Graham Bickley. I know the true phans will hate me for this, but I think I prefer Emmy Rossum's voice. Oh well, just my thoughts on it. Interesting to hear differencet versions of it though!  
**


	10. Part Ten

**A/N: Before we start, just so you know, this chapter skips over several time periods. I hope it all makes sense!  
**

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Ten**

"Still no luck," Madame Giry said deftly. Erik did not look up from the organ. He often sat there, even though he was unable to play. He was drawing something with his left hand. She had not known that he was ambidextrous.

"I have come to expect that," he said quietly, still drawing. Marie watched for a moment and was about to leave when he said, "I need something."

"What?"

"Here. Everything on that list," he said, handing her a piece of paper.

She eyed the list in astonishment. "What on earth are you up to, Erik?"

"Just an idea," he said. She leaned over his shoulder to look at the drawing.

"A false hand?"

"It may not work. But if I can perfect it, at least I may be able to play _some_ music again," he said quietly.

Marie nodded and left him in peace. She looked down at the list. Half of the items she had no idea where to find. She found Monsieur Reyer sitting at the practice room piano, playing some Chopin.

"How is our Ghost today?" he asked. Only he, Meg and Marie were aware of Erik's presence in the Opera house. Although Firmin and André had been helpful in their attempt to find him, Madame Giry very much doubted that they would care to have him haunting their business once more.

"The same. He is trying to fashion a false hand for himself. I don't suppose you have the faintest idea of where to procure these items?" She handed him the list and he read through it.

"I think I'll manage. When does he want them by?"

"As soon as possible."

"I'll go now. I suppose you had no luck at the Land Ownership building?"

"I'm afraid not. It's been months now. If they were going to find anything, it would have been found by now," Madame Giry said quietly.

"But you checked under Daae? What about the name she was going to use when she married him?"

"She wouldn't use that name. It would be too painful for her. In any case, the clerk said if anything under Daae came up he would contact me."

Monsieur Reyer got to his feet and stretched, having been sat at the piano for some time.

Madame Giry said softly, "I suppose the child is born by now."

"It must be a month old, assuming it was on time," Monsieur Reyer agreed.

"I wonder what it is called, if it is a boy or a girl."

"Did you try the registry office? If a child has been born, it will be registered there," Monsieur Reyer suggested. Marie smiled.

"I shall go there tomorrow. I have a training session with the girls now."

"Indeed," he said with a smile. As he left, Marie considered his idea. The registry office…

* * *

Rosa Chirmes smiled as she heard singing. It was a lovely sound and she couldn't resist going to the baby's room to watch. Christine held the tiny baby in her arms, singing a lullaby. 

"_Angel of music_

_Guide and guardian_

_Grant to me your glory…_"

"That's lovely," Rosa commented. Christine looked up with a smile at the young girl. She couldn't be older than fifteen but was a good companion and an excellent worker.

"Thank you Rosa. My father taught it to me. Do you think she looks like a singer?" Christine laughed, gazing down at the child. Rosa went over and cocked her head, examining the child.

"Oh yes, definitely."

"I thought so, too. Yes, Little One, you're going to be a wonderful musician, aren't you?" The baby gurgled slightly and Christine laughed again, placing her back in the crib.

Rosa watched her mistress fuss over the blankets. She had been working for here nearly a year now, ever since Christine had arrived in the house. Although Christine was only nineteen, nearly twenty, she was a strong-willed young woman and Rosa loved working for her. Christine looked up. "How is your mother?"

"She is much better. The influenza has passed now, but she's still weak."

"If you want to take her some hot food from the kitchen, feel free. We always have too much here, don't we, Little One?"

It was not often that in this time you found a woman who owned her own property, had a child, and remained unmarried. Monsieur Thomas Peron, who had sold her the house, was a frequent visitor and friend to Christine, and had suggested once that she try and find a husband, but Christine would have none of it.

Thomas hadn't appeared to have taken any notice of this and had once invited her to dinner only to sit her between two very wealthy, unmarried young men. Christine had put up with an hour's worth of conversation, during which Thomas dropped plenty of hints about how very unmarried she was before announcing to both men that she was four months pregnant. This shocked the entire table in silence. Christine had had a few well chosen words with Thomas afterwards and the subject had never been brought up again.

"I have had bad experiences with men," she had told Rosa, "And I am managing perfectly well by myself."

Rosa couldn't deny it. Even in the village, they spoke of Christine le Phantome's efficient nature. She had several people living on land surrounding the house, who paid a regular rent and provided the house with food. Several of the farmers had grumbled about their master being female but had been quickly silenced.

"Where did you learn to be so business-like?" Rosa had asked her once.

Christine had simply smiled and said, "I didn't. Mostly it's common sense, partly my father's fault. He was a dreamer you see, so when my mother died I took an interest in running our house. I doubt very much that the servants appreciated being ordered around by a child, but I insisted."

Christine was a mystery. Rosa knew nothing of her past, except that she came from Paris and loved music. She had no idea who the father of the child was and didn't dare to ask.

At that moment Christine said, "I suppose I should really stop calling her Little One and call her by her proper name. It wouldn't do to confuse her."

"She is only small. It won't hurt to call her by a pet name," Rosa replied, making the bed. Christine smiled.

"I suppose so. And I do adore her name. Dominique…"

"Is it a family name?" Rosa asked.

"No, I just like the name," she laughed in reply.

Rosa smiled and then looked at the clock. "Would you like some tea? It's almost four."

"Yes, I suppose so. Shall we take tea on the lawn? It's a lovely day," Christine said. It was July, and the sun shone warmly. A slight breeze ruffled the trees and the birds sang without a care in the world.

"I'll take it out there in ten minutes," Rosa said.

Christine looked down at Dominique as Rosa left. "Well, Dominique, what do you think of tea outside? Yes, I think it's a good idea as well." She lifted the baby from the crib and made sure she was properly wrapped up before going outside. Dominique gurgled happily as Christine hummed under her breath. She snapped a flower from a bush and waved it in front of Dominique's face. Dominique reached for it happily.

"I can barely believe that you're already four months old. And you're getting so big! We'll need to have some new clothes made soon," Christine said matter-of-factly as Dominique waved the flower around.

"I could make some, if you like," Rosa said, setting down a tray. Christine smiled and put Dominique in the outside crib.

"That would be wonderful. I wish I could sew… I never learned how. It wasn't needed when I was in Paris. The only thing I ever had to mend was my stockings, because I tore them so often," she said, pouring tea into two cups for them.

Rosa accepted her gratefully and asked gingerly, "Where… whereabouts in Paris did you live?"

Christine looked at her quickly and then smiled mischievously. "Can you keep a secret, Rosa?"

"Of course."

"Well… I lived in the Opera Populaire."

"The famous Opera House?"

"Yes. When my father died I went there. I was only about eight years of age and I trained as a ballerina and, later on, a singer."

"I always wondered where you learned to sing so beautifully… but why is it a secret?" Rosa asked, confused. Christine set her teacup down and looked over at Dominique.

"It is a secret because… because I fear that there are people in Paris who may be searching for me. In particular, there is one person who I would prefer not to see."

"The father of Dominique?" Rosa guessed. Christine nodded, stroking the baby's tufty hair.

"Yes. I do not want him to find us. That is why no one can know where I am from."

"I won't tell a single soul," Rosa promised.

Christine was about to speak when someone called out for them.

"On the lawn, Thomas!" Christine called and he came around the side of the house.

"Just in time for tea, I see," he said with a smile as Rosa fetched a third chair for him. He sat heavily and stopped to admire Dominique.

"She grows more every time I see her. She has your hair, Christine."

"Indeed. But her eyes are definitely from her father. It's odd, I thought that all babies are born with blue eyes but hers have always been that shade of green," Christine commented, pouring him tea.

He laughed and said, "I'm glad you're both well. And how is the estate?"

"Flourishing. We've had a good fruit harvest," Christine replied. She and Thomas began to discuss the estate and only stopped when Dominique began to whimper.

"I'll change her," Rosa said, lifting the child from her cot.

"Thank you, Rosa."

Thomas waited until the maid had gone before saying, "I wanted to talk to you, Christine. About something rather important."

"If this is another marriage talk, I don't want to hear it, Thomas," she warned. He shook his head.

"It isn't."

"Very well," Christine said, offering a slice of cake which he gladly accepted.

He looked at her and said, "I'm traveling to Paris next month, to see an old friend. And I know that you originated from Paris, so I wondered if you would care to accompany me. We would be there for a week, you would be able to visit your old friends…"

He stopped as Christine shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Thomas. For one, I can't leave Dominique. She's still so young. And Paris… there are too many ghosts. I can't. I'm sorry."

"Very well. Just as long as you know that the offer still stands," he said, a little regretfully. Christine smiled apologetically.

"Thank you, but I must say no. Maybe one day… but it is too soon."

"Your choice. This cake is delicious."

"Rosa's recipe. Why don't you take it home, I'm sure Emily will enjoy it?"

"Thank you, Christine, that's very generous."

Rosa returned with a now considerably happier Dominique. Christine stood and reached for her baby. "Hello my darling… happy now? Would you like to see Uncle Thomas?"

"_Uncle_ Thomas?" he said, looking delighted. Christine smiled.

"Well, you are her godfather. Here," she held her out to him. Thomas took the baby and smiled down at her. Dominique reached for his moustache and tugged the end.

"Dominique!"

"Oh, she's fine. My own children did the same thing," Thomas said. His own children were two boys, aged eight and twelve, called Andrew and Christopher.

Christine smiled and looked at Rosa, "Could you wrap up the rest of the cake for Monsieur Peron?"

"There's a fresh one in the cupboard, if he'd prefer."

"Much better. Wrap that one instead."

He passed Dominique back to her and smiled as the baby squealed. "She's a beautiful child."

"Isn't she? I don't know what I'd do without her. I can't imagine being without her ever again," Christine commented, holding the baby close to her. She sang a little song to the happy child before placing her back in the crib.

Thomas watched with a smile. He was truly fond of this young woman, with her iron will and loving nature. He, his wife Emily, and Rosa, had all been waiting when she went into labor. Nine hours, she had struggled, whilst they paced the corridor outside the bedroom. The doctor had refused to let anyone in, saying that they would only be in the way.

And then the tense expectant air had been shattered by a scream of pain. The three of them had turned towards the door fearfully. Silence, and then the unmistakable sound of a baby's cries. After an agonizing ten minutes the doctor let them in.

"Only for a moment. She's had a hard time and needs to rest," he warned them. They had gone in and looked towards the bed. Christine had been pale and sweating but she smiled as she looked down at the small being in her arms.

Thomas was brought out of his train of thought by the return of Rosa and the cake. "Thank you, Rosa. Emily will certainly enjoy this."

"If she'd like the recipe I'll give it to you next time you visit," Rosa said. She had prepared a bottle of milk for Dominique and Christine reached for it.

As she held the bottle to Dominique's mouth she said, "How are Andrew and Christopher?"

"Troublesome, but they're good boys. They do make their mother worry though," Thomas sighed.

Christine laughed. "Well, that's what boys do. I must say, I was a little relieved that Dominique was a girl. I know how to handle girls. You have a little brother, don't you Rosa?"

"Yes, Jonathon. I love him dearly, but he is a little horror," Rosa agreed.

They all laughed and Christine said, "Yes, Little One, I'm very glad that you're a girl. No doubt your father would have wanted a boy, but I'm very happy with you."

Dominique sucked the milk contently, not aware that they were discussing her. Thomas said, "I must be going, Christine. Are you sure you won't consider coming to Paris?"

"No, Thomas. But do enjoy yourself."

"Oh, I will. I haven't seen my friend in many years. Thank you for the cake, Rosa. I'll see you both soon."

He strode off, the cake tucked under his arm. Rosa glanced at Christine. "Paris?"

"Hmm. Will you put her down for a sleep?" she said, passing Dominique to Rosa. She nodded and took the baby inside. Christine sat for a few moments in contemplative silence before rising and walking to the sunlit room on the other side of the house. A piano sat there, its lid open. The keys glinted enticingly, begging her to sit and play them. She did, running her hands over the ivory and ebony keys. A song rose in her throat and she sang quietly.

_Say you'll love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you'll need me with you now and always_

_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That's all I ask of you_

She paused and bit her lip. She closed her eyes, seeing as she did so the stage of the Opera Populaire. The wonderful feeling she received, that thrill of excitement that night when she had realized that it was Erik singing and not Piangi.

"Erik… why?" Christine whispered, feeling a sharp jab of pain in her heart.

* * *

Erik looked down at the false hand he had fashioned and slipped it over the stump of his wrist. It had taken several months but it seemed perfect. He was trying a technique he had read about many years ago in Persia, attaching different wires to separate points on the length of his arm. Each point would, in theory, cause a different movement when he tried to move the hand. It was all about tricking his brain into believing that the hand was there and would work properly, as well as some more, rather complicated theories. 

He set about attaching the lengths of copper and then tried to move the fingers. Nothing happened and he altered a few of the wires before trying again. This time the index finger twitched a little. When Madame Giry went down an hour later he was sat, concentrating on the hand. She gasped in amazement as the fingers flexed in turn. "You did it!"

"Hmm. It will take some time to perfect its use, but it will for now serve its purpose. Did you want something?" he asked, looking up briefly. She ignored his rudeness. She had grown accustomed to it.

"Food, Erik. On the table."

"Thank you, Marie," he said, still examining the false hand. It was made from metal and he had spent many hours laboring to make sure that it contained all of the joints that a normal hand would.

"And Monsieur Reyer has sent down some more music paper for you."

"Thank him for me."

"I shall when he returns. He has gone to see a friend for a few days."

"Very well."

Marie turned, expecting no more conversation from him. It had been nearly three years since Christine's departure and despite her efforts she had not found her. Erik refused to search for her. He simply said, "She knows where I am. If she wants to find me, she will. If not, I shall no longer haunt her." Marie had then called him an idiot of the highest degree but Erik had merely waved the insult away.

* * *

Meg was in the practice room, waiting to dance, when Marie arrived. "He has finished his hand." 

"Really? Does it work?"

"It does. Your stretches, please, Meg."

As Meg stretched her legs she said, "How old would the child be now?"

"Let's see… two years, maybe a few months more."

"And he still doesn't know…"

"And you will not tell him!" Marie snapped. Meg looked hurt.

"I know, Maman."

"Time to practice. Starting position please."

* * *

Monsieur Reyer was greeted off the carriage by his friend. Thomas Peron shook hands with him jovially. 

"Simon Reyer, how are you?"

"I am well, thank you Thomas. And Emily, you look more beautiful every time I see you," the conductor said, kissing her cheek.

She laughed and said, "What a gentleman. Come, dinner is almost ready." They began the short walk up the path to the beautiful house.

It was the last day of his visit that Christine was discovered. Thomas had said to Monsieur Reyer, "You must come and meet my good friend. She's an excellent musician, I'm sure she'd love to meet you."

"Well, why not?" he had said happily. Thomas always put him in a good mood. How could you be in the company of someone so happy and not be cheerful?

They took a carriage to the house and Thomas called out. "Is anybody home?"

Rosa appeared at the side of the house and smiled. "Around the back, Monsieur. You're in time for tea, as usual."

"I must say, we have excellent timing," Thomas laughed.

As Monsieur Reyer rounded the side of the house next to Thomas he did not expect to see what he saw. A small child, running happily on the green lawn, being chased by a beautiful young woman in a light dress, her long dark hair falling free down her back. The child screamed as the woman caught her and lifted her into the air, swinging her around, laughing with joy.

Monsieur Reyer felt his blood run cold as he recognized her beautiful, happy face. Christine held the child to her as she turned and saw the two men.

"Thomas! How wonderful! And…" the smile faded from her face and she went slightly pale.

Thomas said, "Christine, this is my good friend Simon Reyer. Simon, Christine le Phantome."

"My god…" Christine moaned in a low voice. Monsieur Reyer stepped forward.

"Miss Daae? Is that really you?"

"Monsieur Reyer. What are you doing here?"

"Simon's been a life-long friend. How on earth do you two know each other?"

"Monsieur Reyer was a teacher of mine, when I lived in Paris," Christine said quietly. Monsieur Reyer's eyes fell on Dominique who was playing with her mother's long hair.

"And this is…?"

"Yes. This is Dominique. My daughter," Christine said quietly. Thomas and Rosa exchanged puzzled glances.

Christine turned to them. "Here, take Dominique. Could we just have a moment?"

"Of course," Rosa said, lifting Dominique. Christine led Monsieur Reyer a short way off and then turned to him, smiling.

"I'm so glad to see you. I was just…"

"Shocked? The same here. So this is where you've been hiding all this time," Monsieur Reyer said.

Christine smiled. "Yes."

"And under the name Le Phantome?"

"I didn't want to be found."

"Perfectly understandable."

"Is he… is he still there?" Christine asked hesitantly. Monsieur Reyer nodded.

"Yes. Erik is still at the Opera Populaire. He has taken up his old residence."

"My god… how is he?"

"Physically, he is well. But… he is not the man you made him. He has become the sullen creature called the Phantom once more. He doesn't get up to his old tricks, as he used to. But he is worse without you."

"Will you tell him that I am here?" she asked directly. Monsieur Reyer sighed.

"That is your choice. Do you want me to tell him?"

Christine looked past him, at the little girl who was trying to snatch a piece of cake from Thomas' plate without him noticing and laughing delightedly each time she was caught. "Does he know about her?"

"No."

"Then… I don't know. Do what you think is best. If you think it will be good for him to know, then tell him."

Monsieur Reyer smiled and said, "You are so grown up. Hardly the girl you were when you left the Opera House all that time ago."

"I have had to grow up. I am a mother, a landowner, an employer…"

"You have done well for yourself."

"I have," she agreed.

"Do you still play your music?" he asked. Christine smiled and nodded.

"Everyday. Even Dominique has started to try and play the piano and she loves to listen to me play."

After a few minutes more they returned to the others. Christine reached for Dominique. "Little One, come and meet my friend. This is Monsieur Reyer." Dominique gazed up at him and extended a small sticky hand, offering a handful of cake.

Monsieur Reyer laughed and accepted the crumbled treat. "Thank you."

She smiled and pointed to herself. "Dominique," she said proudly before running over to Christine who lifted her into her lap.

"Do you want some milk?"

"Milk please," she mumbled through some cake. Christine poured some into a little cup and she drank contentedly as Rosa poured tea.

"So you two know each other from Paris? The Opera Populaire?" Thomas asked. Christine nodded.

"I lived there for many years, as a singer and dancer."

"Really? I had no idea!" Thomas exclaimed. Christine smiled slightly.

"It's not something I spread around. There are far too many gossips in the village as it is. Tell me, how are Madame Giry and Meg?"

"They are both well. They still work at the Opera House and Meg is one of the lead dancers."

"She was always much better than I was," Christine admitted. "Although, I can't say I put as much effort into dancing as I did singing."

"You were never a dancer. Your future lies with music."

"I suppose Carlotta is still the lead soprano?" Christine asked, with a mischievous smile. Monsieur Reyer sighed.

"Unfortunately so. I doubt we will ever be rid of her."

They spoke of the Opera House for most of the afternoon. When the two men rose, Christine stood as well, holding Dominique, who reached for Thomas' moustache. "Give my love to everyone in the Opera House."

"Including Carlotta?"

Christine laughed. "Maybe not everyone."

"And what about…?" he asked.

Christine caught his meaning and said quietly, so Thomas could not hear, "Tell him I am here. Don't force him to come. But if he chooses to come, I will not turn him away until we have talked."

"Very well. It was wonderful to see you, Madame le Phantome."

"And you, Monsieur Reyer. And you."

When the two men had left, Rosa looked at Christine. "Are you alright?"

"Yes… yes, I am. It was nice to see him again," she said vaguely.

In truth, she did not expect Erik to come. He had made his position quite clear a long time ago and she was not going to force him to be a father. That would be his choice, and his alone.

* * *

"I need to see him," Monsieur Reyer said, when he arrived back at the Opera Populaire. Madame Giry looked at him as if he were insane. 

"You know he forbids anyone to enter his home."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent, Marie. You know that."

"What has happened?" Marie asked quietly, guiding him to an empty corridor. Monsieur Reyer took a deep breath.

"I've found her, Marie. I've found Christine."

"My god! You've found her? Where?"

"Near the border of Switzerland. She owns a house and land there under the name of Le Phantome."

"I can't believe it. And the child? I assume there is one?" Marie asked. He smiled.

"There is. She is called Dominique and she's lovely."

"She is not… like him?"

"No. She's perfect."

Madame Giry closed her eyes and then looked at him. "I shall fetch him. But does Christine want to see him?"

"She said that if he wishes to come, he may. But she will not insist upon it, nor are we to force him to go."

"We'll see about that," Marie said darkly, disappearing through a doorway. She returned a few minutes later and beckoned him into a secret corridor. A dark figure stood in the shadows, his arms folded.

"What excuse do you have for disturbing me, Monsieur Reyer?" Erik said in a dangerously calm voice. Monsieur Reyer forced himself not to be intimidated.

"I have news of Christine Daae."

"Really."

"Yes. I know where she is living and she has made it clear that you are welcome to go to her."

"How very generous of her," Erik said, turning away.

"You will not go?"

"No. She is the one who broke our engagement, not I. I have no reason to see her."

"Actually, there may be one reason," Monsieur Reyer said. Erik continued to walk away.

"There is no reason why I would go to her now," he said quietly.

"Not even your child?"

Erik froze and turned slowly. "What did you say?"

"Is that reason enough? The fact that your daughter is there with her?"

"I have no daughter!"

"You do, Erik," Marie said quietly. He turned to her, his eyes wide with fury and amazement.

"You… you knew about this?"

"I knew Christine was with child. I did not know if she had the child or not until just now," she admitted.

Erik slumped against the wall. Monsieur Reyer continued.

"Her name is Dominique le Phantome. She is… well, she's beautiful. Her mother's hair and face, but your eyes. A wonderful child."

"My god… and no one told me… all this time and she…" Erik said, covering his face with his hands.

Monsieur Reyer said calmly, "I suggest that you take your horse and start riding. You will arrive tomorrow morning if you start riding now and don't stop."

"Will you go, Erik?" Madame Giry asked. He straightened and looked at them.

"Yes. Yes, I will go."


	11. Part Eleven

**Part Eleven**

Christine sat at the piano, playing a sweet tune. It was another lovely morning. Rosa was down in the kitchen, cooking, and Dominique was sitting on the floor next to the piano. She reached up and pressed one of the keys, giggling as it interrupted the tune. Christine smiled and tickled the child.

"Silly."

"Silly," Dominique replied. Christine began to play again and Dominique grew bored. She picked up her ball and went outside to play.

"Be carefully, Little One," Christine called, but she was not too worried. Dominique would not wander far, she never did.

* * *

Dominique chased after the rolling ball and caught it triumphantly. She was playing in front of the house and she threw the ball again, running after it. And then she stopped as the ball rolled to the feet of a man standing by the open gates. A black horse was next to him and he was dressed in black too, with a white shirt. There was a white mask over the right side of his face. He was watching her. Dominique looked at him plainly and pointed to the ball.

"My ball," she said. The man stared at her and she sighed. Grown ups were so silly. She marched over and picked the ball up. The man knelt to look her in the face.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Dominique."

"Dominique…" he repeated quietly. She nodded and held out the ball. He accepted it and said, "Do you live here, Dominique?"

"Yes."

"Who else lives here?"

"Dominique, and Mama, and Rosa."

The man closed his eyes for a moment. Dominique took the ball back and he smiled gently at her.

"Would you like a present, Dominique?"

She smiled and nodded. "Please!"

* * *

Christine ran onto the lawn.

"Dominique? Dominique, where are you?" she called, slightly panicky. She heard a peal of laughter from the front of the house and ran around to find Dominique sitting on the front step with her ball on the step beside her.

The child looked up at her and said, "Hello Mama."

Christine smiled and knelt beside her daughter. "What were you laughing at?"

"At the man."

Christine frowned. "What man?"

"The man."

Christine looked around. There was no one around. "Where is the man now, Dominique?" she asked, worried.

"Gone away. Gave me a present!" she said happily.

Christine clutched her daughter. "What? What present?"

Dominique held it out. Christine stared at it. A red rose, tied with a black ribbon. Christine took it at gazed at it, running the silk ribbon through her fingers. Dominique took it back and Christine seized her tiny hand.

"Dominique? Did the man have a mask? On his face, like this?" She held her hand up over the right side of her face and Dominique copied, giggling. Then she nodded. Christine let out a cry and ran down the driveway towards the gates. Dominique followed curiously. Christine flung open the gates and ran onto the road, looking around. There was no sign of him. Dominique tugged on her skirts.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Man come back?"

"I don't… I don't know, Little One. I don't know." She bent and picked her daughter up, holding her close. Dominique allowed herself to be hugged before wriggling out of her mother's grip, still clutching the rose. Christine smiled and tucked the rose behind Dominique's ear. "Did you say thank you to the man?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. Come on, let's go and play with the ball." She guided her daughter back inside the grounds, but paused to take one last look around.

* * *

Hidden behind the hedge, Erik stared out as Christine knelt beside her daughter. Dominique showed her the rose and Christine spoke urgently to the child before running out onto the road. She looked around before going back inside with the child.

How could she still be so beautiful? It just wasn't possible. Every time he thought of her, he told himself that it was impossible for someone to actually look that glorious, and yet… the last few years had turned her from a lovely girl to a beautiful young woman. He looked down at his gloved hands and sighed.

She had done well for herself here. She would not want him to mess things up. He guided the horse onto the rode and mounted him. "Back to Paris," he murmured.

* * *

From a window of the house, Christine looked out at the black clad figure that rode away. Dominique peered out of the window and laughed. "Man!"

"Yes, Little One…" Christine said absently. She stood thinking for a moment and then called for Rosa. The girl came up from the kitchen, a smudge of flour across her cheek. "Rosa, I need you to call a carriage."

"A carriage?"

"Yes… and pack Dominique's things. She and I are going to Paris, as soon as possible."

Rosa stared at her and Christine smiled. "I need to confront my demons."

* * *

Dominique was very excited. She sat opposite her mother in the moving carriage, looking out of the window. She had never been in a carriage before!

"Where going?" she asked. Christine looked up.

"We're going to Paris. To see the man."

"See man. Where Paris?"

"A long way away. We'll sleep in the carriage tonight. Isn't that exciting?" Dominique nodded at how exciting it would be before settling down to play with her doll. Christine looked out of the window. They would arrive in Paris tomorrow afternoon, weather permitting. She chewed her lip thoughtfully.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure why she was going to Paris. Curiosity, she supposed. She wanted to see him again. She _had_ to see him again. Christine frowned. It didn't seem fair that he should still have this hold over her, that she should still long for him after seeing him from a difference, not after so long.

Rosa would look after the house in their absence. That was nothing to worry about. She had also promised to get word to Thomas, to inform him of their plans.

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

"Get nuver present?" Dominique asked, touching the rose in her hair. Christine smiled.

"Maybe. We'll have to see what the man says, won't we?"

"What man's name?" she asked thoughtfully.

Christine bit her lip again and then said, "The man's name is… is Erik, Dominique."

"Erik?"

"Yes. His name is Erik."

Dominique considered, seemed to approve of the name, and then returned to her doll. Christine smiled and smoothed her daughter's hair before looking once more out of the window.

The movement of the carriage kept Christine awake but clearly had no effect on Dominique who curled up on the seat next to Christine. She covered the little girl with a blanket and then tried to sleep but every time she did she saw Erik. Playing his organ, standing by the window with lightening flashing, fixing a door, on the flame lit balcony…

Dominique mumbled and stretched. Christine stroked her hair absently, praying that sleep would soon find her.

* * *

Madame Giry looked at Erik. He sat hunched over his organ, playing dolefully. "I don't understand… you went, saw your daughter for less than five minutes and rode straight back here? Without even talking to Christine?"

"That is correct," Erik replied.

"I do not understand you in the least, Erik. I really don't," she said tiredly, turning away.

Monsieur Reyer was waiting for her in the lobby. "Well?"

"He was there for less then five minutes before he came back. He didn't even talk to Christine," Marie said.

He rolled his eyes. "In heaven's name, those two are _never_ going to be in the same room as each other again, are they?"

"It's starting to look that way. And now we're late for rehearsals. Doubtless Carlotta will have something to say about that," Madame Giry said grimly, heading for the theatre.

* * *

Christine awoke to Dominique's excited chattering. She looked out of the window and then looked at the time.

"Twelve noon? How could I possibly have slept so late?" she wondered. Dominique pointed excitedly. Paris noises and sights surrounded them.

"Mama! Look!"

Christine laughed at her excitement and tickled her stomach. "Yes, I know. Do you like it?"

"Yes!"

"We'll be at the Opera House in ten minutes, Madame," the driver called down. Christine thanked him and looked in her bag for a hairbrush.

"Come here, Little One. We need to make you pretty, don't we?" Dominique grumbled but allowed her hair to be brushed, making sure the rose was put back in her hair. Christine turned her brush onto her own hair. It had been tied back but had come loose during the night. She brushed it out and left it to hang loose.

She felt her heart jump and took Dominique's hand. "Look, Dominique! That's where Mama used to live." The Opera Populaire stood over them, an imposing sight. Dominique stared at it in awe as Christine paid the carriage driver and picked up their bag. Everything had been unceremoniously dumped into one large bag and Christine realized now that everything would be rumpled.

_Oh for goodness sake, you silly girl! You're about to see Erik and all you can think about is rumpled clothes!_ she told herself sternly. Dominique reached up and Christine bent to lift her. Holding her daughter with one arm and the bag in another Christine once more climbed the steps of the Opera Populaire.

Dominique was very impressed by the decorations of the lobby. Christine put the bag by the wall and looked around. "I wonder where everyone is."

"With man?"

"No, I don't think so. Maybe they're rehearsing." She put Dominique down, took her hand and led her to the theatre door. She pushed it open and looked inside.

Rehearsals were going on, but there seemed to be some sort of argument taking place. Several chorus girls were spitting at each other, some of the male dancers were shouting, and Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry were attempting to calm everyone down.

Dominique laughed delightedly and rushed down the aisle. Christine gasped and darted after her. "Dominique!"

"Mama! Mama, look!" the child shouted, looking excitedly at the people on the stage. Everyone fell silent and stared at the small child who was running around excitedly. Christine ran forward and snatched her up.

"Dominique, you mustn't run off!"

"Mama, dancing!" Dominique pointed at the ballerinas. Christine hushed her and then looked at everyone apologetically.

"Good afternoon… I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Christine? Christine, is that you?" Madame Giry said in astonishment. Christine smiled and put down Dominique who looked up at the ballet mistress solemnly.

"Yes. Dominique, this is Madame Giry. Madame… this is my daughter."

"Christine!" Meg shrieked, running at her friend and hugging her tightly. Christine laughed and hugged her back.

"Where have you been?"

"Are you coming back to sing?"

"Is this your daughter?"

"She's so adorable!"

Everyone began to talk at once. Dominique pushed everyone away and climbed up the steps onto the stage just as Carlotta came out from wardrobe. She looked up at Carlotta and giggled. She held up her tiny hands.

"Hat!" Christine bit her lip as she realized that Dominique wanted to try on the ridiculously elaborate headpiece. Carlotta looked down at her incredulously.

"Who are you?" she demanded. Dominique looked offended, as if she should already know.

"Dominique. Hat now, please."

Carlotta looked thoroughly confused and said crossly, "Will someone remove this… _child_?" Christine felt a rush of anger and marched up onto the stage.

Carlotta looked at her in surprise and Dominique said to her mother, "Hat, please?"

"That is Carlotta's hat, Dominique. Good afternoon," she said to the stunned diva, who blinked at her.

"You… you are…"

"Christine Daae. I trust you haven't forgotten me. Oh, and this is my daughter, Dominique." Dominique smiled again and rushed off to look at the chorus girls. Christine ground her teeth.

"Dominique le Phantome, come here right this minute!"

"Mama!" Dominique laughed as several of the chorus girls fussed over her. Christine rolled her eyes and called to her daughter again.

"Dominique! Here _now_!"

Dominique noted the tone and rushed obediently back to her mother. Christine sighed.

"You mustn't rush off. You might get hurt." Dominique didn't seem to think that this was likely but nodded. Christine looked at Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry.

"I need to talk to you for a moment."

"Of course. Take a few minutes, everyone," Madame Giry said. Christine looked at Meg.

"Could you take Dominique for a little while?"

"Of course I will."

"Dominique," Christine knelt to look her daughter in the face, "This is Auntie Meg. She's going to play with you for a while."

Dominique looked over at Meg, nodded solemnly and took her new 'auntie' by the hand. "Get hat?"

"Let's go to the wardrobes and see if they've got a hat for you," Meg laughed. Christine waited until everyone was otherwise occupied before looking at Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry.

"You know why I'm here."

"Erik."

"Yes. He was at our home yesterday. He spoke to Dominique but left before I could see him. I need to talk to him. Can you persuade him to meet with me?" Christine requested.

Marie nodded. "Give me a time and place, and I will tell him."

Christine smiled. "The stage, at ten 'o' clock. As usual."

* * *

Dominique and Meg returned a few minutes later. Dominique was wearing a large, brightly colored hat and ran to show Christine who laughed.

"What on earth are you wearing, Little One?"

"Hat! My hat!" Dominique giggled. The brim slipped over her eyes but she pushed it up again without a second thought.

She decided to go and show everyone else, and scampered to Monsieur Reyer who was playing the piano. Dominique was about to interrupt when she stopped and recognized the song.

"Mama! Your song!" she squealed. Christine listened and heard _Think of Me_. She smiled at her daughter.

"Yes, darling, I sing that song too, don't I?"

"Sing! Sing!" Dominique ordered. Christine shook her head.

"No, Dominique."

Dominique's lip wobbled and Meg touched her arm.

"Do sing some for us. It'll be lovely to hear you again."

Dominique clapped her little hands, pushing the hat up again. "Sing with me, Mama!" she pleaded, running to climb onto the stage. Christine was rather relieved that Carlotta had returned to her dressing room and followed her daughter onto the stage. Dominique held up her arms and Christine lifted her up.

"Do you remember the words?" Monsieur Reyer asked. Christine smiled and nodded. He began to play the tune and Dominique looked at Christine expectantly. Christine began to sing, smiling at her daughter who grinned impishly at having gotten her own way.

"_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_…"

Dominique tried to sing along but wasn't sure of the words. So she replaced the words with a series of _la, la, la_'s instead.

Meg smiled at her mother who was watching the singing pair fondly. "She's so happy," Meg murmured. Marie nodded and continued to watch them. Dominique joined in whenever she knew the words and Christine let her sing these parts in her pretty little voice.

"_Spare a thought for me…_" she sang and Christine kissed her head.

"Good girl, Dominique."

"Sing?"

"We'll do some singing later," Christine promised. Dominique went to see Monsieur Reyer again and sat on the piano stool next to him, pressing the keys with an intense air of concentration. Christine watched her with a soft smile as she rejoined Meg and Marie.

"She's a lovely girl," Meg said. Christine smile widened.

"Thank you. She's a good girl, but she has an artist's temperament. No doubt from her father's side."

Dominique's hat slipped down again and she grew tired of it, pulling it off and running to give it back to Christine. She stumbled and fell down as she ran and Meg gave a cry, going to help. But Christine put a hand on her arm.

"Just watch," she said as she smiled. Dominique picked herself up, made a noise of irritation at the interruption and continued, handing the hat to her mother before running off to talk with the chorus girls.

"Most of the time she's fine and will just get on with things," Christine said.

Meg laughed, "You're so different, Christine! So grown up. I can barely believe that you have a child."

"I know, it's so strange. But I don't think that I could manage without her. I just love her too much," Christine admitted, watching Dominique being fussed over by the dancers.

Madame Giry said, "Well, I suppose we had better find somewhere for Dominique to sleep. I assume you're staying the night."

"It's no trouble; we can find an inn or a hotel-"

"No, really, stay here. It's no trouble at all," Monsieur Reyer said, joining them.

Christine nodded. "Thank you. But we may be leaving in the morning anyway. It very much depends."

"On Erik?"

Christine nodded and looked over at Dominique, who was playing with the chorus girls. "I can't… Dominique is everything to me. I can't let her be hurt and it's not fair to drag her all over France like this. I would have left her with the maid but… I can't bear to let her out of my sight," she admitted.

Madame Giry touched her arm. "Don't make any decisions until you have seen him."

"I won't, Madame. But I won't let him hurt us again. I won't put her through that," Christine said resolvedly. Before anyone could reply Dominique came wandering back and tugged at her mother's skirts.

"Mama?"

"Yes, darling?"

"See man now?"

"Not yet. Soon," Christine said.

Dominique looked dissatisfied and said, "Want see man."

"What man does she mean?" Meg asked. Dominique put her hand up over the right side of her face.

"Man like this."

Christine bent and picked her up, holding her close. "Soon, Little One. But not yet." Dominique hugged her mother back and Christine closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of her daughter, mingled with the scent of the rose tucked into her hair.

* * *

It was quarter to ten. Christine made sure that Dominique was properly tucked into bed before straightening and glancing at herself in the mirror. This really was no time for vanity but still… she brushed her hair quickly and kissed Dominique's hot face. The girl rolled over and began to suck on her thumb. Christine smiled softly and went to the door, making sure to leave it a little open so light shone in. Dominique was frightened of the dark.

She walked silently to the stage and found the room deserted. Christine went onto the stage and paced it, her thoughts speeding through her brain and her heart beating painfully. She licked her dry lips and looked up at the time. It was now ten. She kicked her shoes off and paced the stage in her bare feet, occasionally dancing a step or two.

Softly she began to hum a song. She had no idea where she had learnt it, but it came back as if from some distant memory.

_In sleep he sang to me_

_In dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name_

She stopped and looked to the clock again. Ten past ten. Christine's eyes darted around the room. She had the feeling that she was being watched.

"_And do I dream again?_

_For now I find_…"

Something moved behind her but she didn't turn. She sang the last line clearly.

"_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside my mind_."

For a moment there was silence, and then she said, without turning, "You're late." Erik couldn't help smirking. Christine turned to him, her arms folded as though she were angry, but a smile crept across her lips. He bowed to her.

"My apologies. But if I remember correctly, you were often late to lessons."

"You remember incorrectly. There was only one occasion when I was ever late. And that was only because you had dropped the screen on Carlotta and I couldn't get out of my room because people kept coming to ask me about the performance."

"In which case, my memory must be failing me."

"That must be it."

He smirked at her and she couldn't help letting out a quiet laugh. She looked at him and asked quietly, "How are you, Erik?"

"Alive, which is generally preferable to the alternative."

"And you have once more become the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Not quite. I don't bother the inhabitants as I used to. I prefer to keep to myself." Christine eyed him and he commented, "You look well."

"I am well. I own some land, a house… well, of course, you already know about the house. Unless it was another man wearing a mask who gave my daughter a rose with a black ribbon."

Erik looked unconcerned. "You are angry with me?"

"I'm furious," she said calmly.

"And you came here to tell me to stay away from you and your child?"

"I did nothing of the kind. I came to ask why you didn't come and see me."

"You have made a good life for yourself. You are happy and you hardly need an interference."

"Well, I suppose that just proves that you know very little about me," Christine commented.

Erik sighed and asked, "What do you want from me, Christine?"

"I wish I knew. What do you want from me?" she replied.

Erik scratched his head and said, "I honestly don't know."

"Well… let's start at the beginning then."

"That seems logical."

They sat down, still some way apart, no chairs but taking seats on the floor of the stage. Christine looked over at him. "What happened to you, after the fire? Tell me everything."

So he did. How, as the house collapsed, he was thrown from the building into the trees nearby. How he was awake soon after and found no sign of Christine. How he had heard that a body had been found, but had not thought that it might have been the Viscount's. How he had taken refuge in the small house until he had seen the newspaper, saying that she was in Paris.

Christine listened without interrupting. When he finished she said, "I don't understand. Why didn't you want me to see you, the night of the gala? You didn't say why…"

"No one escapes from an incident like that without a sacrifice," Erik said quietly. He held up his right hand and removed the glove. As it slid off, Christine's eyes widened.

The metal hand flexed as Erik turned it over. Christine crossed the stage and pushed back the sleeve to see how it fitted onto his wrist, examining it in fascination. Erik felt his stomach clench at the nearness of her. Her hair tickled his skin, the scent of her washed over him. He felt a powerful desire and clenched his teeth tightly to stop himself reaching for her.

Christine ran her fingers over the cold metal, feeling how it fitted together. "You made this?"

"Yes."

"It's amazing…" she murmured. She looked at him. "How? Your hand, I mean…"

"I'll spare you the details. To put it simply, it was crushed and not worth saving. I had to take some extreme measures." Christine winced at the thought. And then she looked at him.

"This is why you didn't want to see me? Because you thought…" He nodded mutely and she closed her eyes. "My god, Erik… how could you possibly have thought that…"

"Why did you send back the ring?" Erik asked. Christine frowned.

"Because I thought you didn't want me anymore. I thought that was why you didn't come to the gala. Because you were… I don't know. Bored with me, maybe. I was so angry, Erik."

And then she started to laugh. Erik stared at her as if she were insane. She wiped her eyes and said, through uncontrollable giggles. "Look at us! We're both such idiots… if it hadn't been for our ridiculous pride and stupidity…" She started to laugh again and this time Erik smiled too. She wiped the tears away and took a deep breath.

Christine looked at him. They still sat on the stage, but closer now. "What did you think of Dominique?"

"She looks just like you."

"Your eyes. And your temper," she smirked.

Erik arched an eyebrow and said, "Is she musical?"

"Oh yes. She loves to play on the piano. She can't play many tunes yet, but she's learning. And she loves singing too."

"How old is she?"

"Two years and four months. It wasn't an easy birth. Nine hours…"

"You weren't alone?" he said, astonished. She shook her head.

"Oh no. Thomas, Emily and Rosa were there. Thomas Peron was the man I bought my house from. Emily is his wife and Rosa is my maid," she said, by way of explanation.

Erik didn't speak. Christine looked down at the stage. "I never stopped thinking of you, you know. Everyday I wondered where you were… if you were thinking of me…" she murmured.

Erik sighed, "Never a moment passed when I did not think of you. Of that I can assure you."

Neither of them moved. Erik felt that hunger, that desperate desire to reach for her and draw her into his arms and never let go. Christine felt very much the same. She glanced over at him and said quietly, "Dominique wanted to see you again. She has still got the rose."

"I shall bring her a fresh one," he said. Christine sighed and got to her feet, wandering the stage. Her hands ran through her hair as they did when she was anxious.

"Erik…" she said turning. But he was already on his feet, standing behind her. When she turned she found herself looking at his chest. He slid a finger under her chin and lifted her face so he could see her properly.

"There have been enough words, Christine."

His lips pressed softly to hers, his hands cupping her face. When he drew his face back from hers he saw her staring at him, her eyes shining with tears.

"Please Erik… don't do this, not if you're going to let me go again…"

"Never. I'll never let you go. Never," he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers again. An explosion of emotions ran through both of them and the soft kisses turned to desperate ones as they clung to each other. After a while, the need for air broke them apart. Christine stared up at him and he stroked her cheek.

"How is it possible to love you so much?" he wondered aloud.

"And to think… if we had just talked to each other… if we had just…" Christine mumbled. Erik covered her mouth with his again.

After a moment Christine pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Dominique and I are returning to our house tomorrow morning."

"So soon…?"

"We have to. We… I have duties at home," she explained weakly. He stared down at her and she took a deep breath. "What I want to know, Erik, is… will you come with us? With me?"

Erik considered her for a moment. He cupped her cheek gently. "Can we really go back to what we had? Can we be that happy again, after all that has happened?"

"We can try. I'll never stop trying," Christine said firmly.

Erik smiled slightly. "Then… I will try as well."

He kissed her again. But before the kiss could deepen, Christine gasped. Erik backed off quickly.

"What is the matter?" She couldn't help smiling embarrassedly, pointing to a seat in the front row. Erik followed her gaze and his eyes widened.

Dominique was sat casually on the seat, watching them, legs swinging off the edge of the chair. Christine cleared her throat. "Dominique… you should be in bed."

"Wanted to see Man," she said simply. Christine smiled at Erik, who looked a bit overwhelmed. Dominique climbed off the chair and clambered up onto the stage where she approached Erik and looked at him with large eyes.

"Hello Man."

"Hello Dominique."

"You kissed Mama."

Erik flushed slightly and Christine laughed. Dominique also seemed to find this reaction amusing and pressed on. "Kissed lots and lots and-"

"That's enough, Dominique," Christine gasped, putting a hand quickly over her daughter's mouth.

Dominique giggled and looked up at Erik. "Present?"

Erik smiled and knelt down to her eye level. He held out an empty hand and Dominique looked at it blankly. Erik made a twisting motion with his hand and a rose flicked up out of nowhere. Dominique giggled delightedly and picked it up, turning to show Christine. "Look Mama!"

"Say thank you."

"Thank you Man."

"Erik," he said and Dominique repeated it. Christine knelt, too, and took Dominique's hand.

"Little One, we're going to go home in the morning." Dominique looked rather sad and Christine stroked her hand. "Would you like Erik to come home with us? Would you like that?"

Dominique squealed, turned and threw her little arms around Erik's neck. He looked startled and awkwardly placed his arms around her. Christine smiled. This was going to take a while but she was sure he would be a good father eventually. And maybe… maybe a good husband. It might be a little soon to be thinking about that though.

"Come on, Dominique. Let's get you back to bed."

"Yes Mama," she said obediently. Christine looked up at Erik and he kissed her lightly.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow…" she repeated. He turned and strode into the darkness. Christine looked after him, a smile playing about her lips. Dominique tugged her hand and broke her out of her trance.

"I'm coming, Little One," Christine said, leading her off the stage with a slight laugh.

**A/N: There you go! No need to hurt me, because everything is good! Well, for now anyway. This isn't the end, there's a still a lot more to come. Promise! And I'm glad you like Dominique. She's actually based on a little girl a look after sometimes, called Dominique. She's the cutest kid in the whole world and I just love her! Lol**

**Please keep the reviews coming! The bad news is that I'm back at school now, and have less time to write. Chapters twelve and thirteen are finished and I'm working on fourteen at the moment. But I've got a load of coursework deadlines and it's all kinda hectic at the moment, so please forgive me for not updating straight away! But I've been reading lots of phanfics and there are some fantastic ones in my favourites list, so why not give those a read? **


	12. Part Twelve

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Twelve**

Christine, Meg, Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry stood in the lobby the next day.

"You must come and visit us sometime," Christine told the three of them.

Meg hugged her. "Of course we will. I do so want to see your new home! Are you sure you can't stay longer?"

"I'm afraid not. But I will certainly come again," Christine promised. Dominique was standing beside her impatiently.

"Where Erik?" she demanded. Christine smiled at her.

"He'll be here soon, Little One. Be patient."

"Want now!" Dominique said, stamping her foot.

"Don't be silly, Dominique," Christine said sternly. She looked at Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer. "Thank you for all you have done for me, and for him."

"It's nothing, Christine," Monsieur Reyer smiled.

Madame Giry kissed her cheek. "You will be missed, that is for certain."

Dominique turned away, bored by the talk. She started to walk around, looking at the lavish decorations. She paused next to a statue and peered up at it. It was boring, she decided, and moved on. The door next to her opened and she gave a delighted laugh as Erik stepped through, cloaked and wearing traveling clothes. He smiled at her excited face.

"Good morning, Dominique."

"Erik!" she said, jumping up. He caught her in his arms and she smiled as Christine turned.

She smiled at the sight and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning," he replied, offering a smile. She returned it and turned to Meg, Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry.

"Thank you again."

"Have a safe journey," Madame Giry said, kissing her cheek again, and then kissing Erik's who looked pleasantly surprised. Meg kissed them both as well and then they shook hands with Monsieur Reyer.

As they walked through the door to the Opera Populaire, they met Firmin and André. The two managers stared at the three in amazement.

"Good lord… is that…?"

"I think it is, André," Firmin said. The three smiled at the managers and walked past to the carriage that was waiting.

The managers looked at each other, then inside at the family Giry and Monsieur Reyer who all looked innocent.

* * *

The excitement of the journey wore off Dominique quickly. She soon turned her attention to Erik, who was watching Christine. Dominique tapped his hand and he looked down at her. "Yes?"

"Come home?"

"Yes, I'm coming home with you," he said quietly.

Christine smiled and Dominique asked, "Play with me?"

"If you want to."

"Yes," Dominique decided. Another question crossed her mind and she looked up at his mask. She considered it and then stood up on the seat to touch it. Erik jerked his head back, nervously.

Christine sat Dominique down. "Don't do that, Little One."

"Want to see," Dominique explained. Christine shook her head and Erik let out the breath he had taken in sharply. Dominique looked as if she were about to complain but a warning glance from her mother prevented it. She occupied herself by playing with her doll instead. Shortly she fell asleep with her head on Christine's lap.

Christine looked across the carriage to Erik. He was watching Dominique sleep with an odd expression on his face. "Is something wrong?" she asked gently.

He shook his head, but a bewildered look remained on his face. "I don't… I suppose I never thought that this was possible, that I would be able to go and live in a house, and have a wife and child. Just like everyone else."

"A wife?" Christine asked, with a slight smile. Erik returned the smile.

"That is, if you're willing."

"Of course I am," Christine replied quietly. She let out a gentle laugh and Erik eyed her.

"What's funny?"

"Well… we just managed to stop Dominique calling you 'man'. Now we'll have to get her to call you Papa instead of Erik."

"Papa?"

"Of course. She's always wanted a Papa," Christine smiled. Erik looked down at the girl in her lap and a slow smile spread across his face.

"I love her already," he said.

"I'm glad. I think she loves you, too. She wouldn't stop asking for you this morning."

"Really?" He seemed quite pleased by the idea.

Christine nodded and she sighed happily. "Finally, we can have our perfect life. And this time there is no Viscount to interfere." She frowned. The very memory of William de Martinez still made her shiver.

Erik frowned, too, and touched her hand. "He is gone. We can be happy now."

"I know. And now that we've stopped being so ridiculous we can get on with our lives," she said.

He nodded and looked down at the small girl. "I would have liked to show her my home beneath the Opera Populaire."

"Even if you'd wanted to, I wouldn't have allowed it! It's far too unsafe for a child!" Christine replied.

He looked at her. "In what way is it unsafe?"

"The chance that she could drown in the lake. The sharp objects you leave lying around. The bare candles. The-"

"Yes, yes, fine…" Erik said irritably. Christine smiled at his annoyance and smoothed Dominique's hair.

"Besides… maybe one day, when she's a little older… we could go back. To see an opera."

"Only on the condition that Carlotta isn't starring. I can't bear the woman," Erik replied.

Christine laughed. "You're annoyed, aren't you?"

"No."

"Yes, you are!"

"I am not annoyed!" Erik said crossly. Christine couldn't help giggling, covering her hand with her mouth to smother the sound. Erik seized her hand, pulled it away and pressed his mouth to hers. For some time they simply kissed.

That is, until a little voice said, "Kissing lots and lots and lots and…" They looked down at Dominique watching with an innocent smile. Erik jerked back into his seat and Christine scratched her nose. Dominique giggled at having managed to embarrass both adults at once and sat up, yawning. "Home yet?"

"No. We're going to sleep in the carriage again," Christine replied. Dominique looked at her as if she were quite mad.

"Sleep already."

"I know you've slept already. But you're going to sleep again." Christine replied. Dominique looked at Erik for confirmation and he nodded. She climbed off her seat and onto his side, sitting on his lap to get a better view out of the window. Erik patted her head absently as he smiled at Christine. She smiled back and said to Dominique, "Little One? Guess what?"

"Don't know," Dominique said instantly.

"Erik is going to be your Papa. Would you like that?"

The answer she gave was to screech happily, throwing her arms around Erik. He smiled and hugged her back. Christine watched in intense amusement.

He was going to be a wonderful father.

* * *

When Rosa saw the carriage coming she stood by the front door excitedly. She was eager to find out why Christine had gone to Paris and what had happened whilst she was there. The carriage stopped by the gates and the door opened. Rosa moved forward and then stopped sharply as a cloaked man stepped out. He lifted Dominique and placed her on the ground and then helped Christine out.

Dominique saw Rosa and started towards her excitedly. "Rosa!"

"Hello Dominique. Did you have fun in Paris?"

"Yes! I saw dancers and singers and Papa and-"

"Papa?" Rosa exclaimed. Christine came forward and kissed her cheek.

"Hello Rosa. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine…" Rosa said, clearly very confused. Christine smiled and turned to take Erik's hand.

"Rosa… this is Erik. Dominique's father."

Rosa blinked bemusedly and then curtsied quickly. "Monsieur… I… I'm not entirely sure I understand."

"I'll explain everything. But first of all I think we could all use some tea."

"Of course… I'll put some water on," Rosa said, going back to the house.

Christine looked up at Erik. "She's a lovely girl."

"I'm sure she is," Erik said.

Dominique tugged his right hand, not appearing to notice how hard it was. "Papa! Show you house!"

"Yes, let's show Papa the house," Christine said, guiding him inside.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were sat in the garden with Rosa, who was pouring tea. Christine looked at Dominique. "Go and play for a little while," she told her. Dominique didn't hesitate, rushing off to find her ball. Christine looked at Rosa. She and Erik had talked about how much to tell the girl, and had decided to go for most of the truth.

"Erik and I knew each other years ago, when I was just a child. He was my friend for most of my childhood and… well, we fell in love. When I was about eighteen, still living at the Opera Populaire." Rosa listened closely and Christine glanced at Erik. He looked at Rosa.

"Did you hear about the incident with the Viscount William de Martinez?"

"The Viscount? Yes… it was in the newspaper. He was searching for a singer…" she looked at Christine in amazement. Christine smiled.

"Yes. He wanted to take me away from the Opera House. Obviously Erik and I both fought to keep me there. And then we were discovered and Erik was thrown out of the Opera Populaire. I was forced to leave with the Viscount. But Erik found us and he and I escaped to a house."

"We were safe there for many months. But the viscount kept searching for us," Erik said, "And when he found us… Christine had traveled to Paris that day so it was just me in the house. The Viscount set fire to the house and when Christine arrived she ran in to find me."

"We escaped up to the roof, but the Viscount followed us. He and Erik fought and they both fell. They managed to hold on. I pulled Erik up but when we tried to save the Viscount, the house started to collapse and the rope broke," Christine told her. Rosa sat, riveted by the story.

"I woke up in the Opera House. I was told that Erik was dead," Christine said. Unconsciously her hand found Erik's and squeezed it tightly.

"I thought that Christine was dead," he put in. Christine smiled.

"But by then I was already with child…" she told the amazed girl. She and Erik told of how they had searched for each other and how everything had gone wrong.

By the end of the story, Rosa could barely believe her ears. "And now you are to be married?" she asked. Christine nodded.

"Of course, if you will be unhappy, you are free to leave. But I would love for you to stay-"

"Of course I'll stay! I'm just… well, I can't say I'm not shocked but I'm so happy for you both, and Dominique."

Christine smiled and said, "Now, before you do anything else I want you to take a letter to the town and have a messenger take it at once to Thomas. I'll just go and write it. I'd like to invite him over tomorrow afternoon, so he and Erik can meet." She rose and went inside.

Rosa smiled awkwardly at Erik who returned an equally awkward smile. He frowned suddenly, flexing his gloved right hand. "I don't suppose you have any oil?"

"Down in the kitchens…" She hurried down and fetched a pot of oil. Erik took it and slid the glove off. Rosa gasped at the metal hand. Erik arched an eyebrow.

"Yes… I couldn't have escaped the fire without some sort of injury. And this was it." He rubbed oil into the joints of the hand so they moved more easily. Rosa tried not to stare, but was fascinated by it. Dominique came over and looked at the hand. She didn't seem to find it odd and climbed onto Christine's empty chair, nibbling a biscuit.

Rosa smiled. "Would you like some milk, Dominique?"

"Milk please."

Rosa poured some milk into Dominique's usual cup and the little girl drank it thirstily. Then she looked at Erik. "Play now?"

"I… I suppose so," Erik said, surprised. Dominique fetched her ball and held it to him. Then she glanced at Rosa.

"Play?"

"If you want to."

When Christine emerged a few minutes later with a sealed letter in her hand, Dominique, Erik, and Rosa were on the lawn, rolling the ball to each other. She laughed aloud at them and Erik quickly straightened. She handed the letter to Rosa, still smiling as the maid rushed off. "Having fun?"

"Yes!" Dominique replied for Erik. Christine laughed and tickled her.

"I wasn't asking you, Little One!"

Dominique screamed happily, wriggling free and running for shelter behind Erik. He smiled down in pleasure that she had instinctively run to him. Christine noticed and smiled to herself.

"Come on, Dominique. You need to go and wash yourself."

"Don't want to," she said sulkily. Christine eyed her.

"Now, Dominique."

"Papa!" she whined. Erik shook his head.

"Listen to your mother."

The little girl stomped her feet and sulked off towards the house. Christine smiled at Erik. "She's adopted you nicely. She's already trying to manipulate you!"

"You handle her well."

"I've had a lot more practice, to be fair. Give yourself a little while; you'll be amazing with her," Christine said as they walked back towards the house.

Erik reached out and took her hand. "Christine, are you sure about this? You've got a good life here. I don't want to interrupt."

"Erik… don't think for one moment that you're intruding. There was something missing from my life. And that something was you. I _need_ you," Christine said, stopping to look up at him. He hesitated. Christine sighed. "I told you on that stage that if you going to leave again, you shouldn't kiss me. You kissed me. That means you have to stay. Don't break my heart again, Erik."

"I'm not going to. It would kill me to hurt you," Erik said quietly. Christine smiled, relieved. Erik leant forward to kiss her but she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Do you really want to have to hear 'kissed lots and lots and lots' again?"

"Good point," Erik smirked. He pulled away and offered his arm. Christine took it and they went inside.

* * *

Thomas Peron was pleased to receive the letter from his friend and opened it in his study. When his wife, Emily, entered a few minutes later it was to find him pacing the room, the letter still in his hand.

"Is something wrong, Thomas?" she asked. He waved the paper at her.

"Christine is getting married."

"She is? That's wonderful!" Emily smiled.

"It's a disaster! Apparently this is the same man who is Dominique's father and who abandoned Christine all that time ago."

"Are you sure? Christine is a sensible girl, she wouldn't-" He handed her the letter. She scanned it and frowned. "Well… perhaps we should wait to meet this Erik. I'm sure that he and Christine will explain everything tomorrow."

"Emily, this cannot possibly be right. Why would this man come back to Christine now?"

"Thomas, I'm not going to pass judgment until I've met him, and neither should you," Emily said firmly. She crossed to Thomas and put a hand on his arm. "I know you are fond of Christine, but you can't treat her like a child. If she chooses to marry this man, it is her choice and hers alone. And you are not to interfere."

Thomas looked down at his wife and sighed. "Fine. I'll wait until I've met him."

"Good. Your sons were looking for you. They want you to play with them," Emily said. Thomas smiled.

"They're your sons, too."

"Not when I'm busy and you're not. Then they're yours," Emily told him, smiling as she left.

* * *

Erik had always been an early riser. He awoke at about five the next morning. He looked over at the sleeping figure of Christine and smiled. Then he noticed Dominique curled up between them. He smiled and rose quietly, not wanting to wake them.

He dressed and went downstairs. He wanted a hot drink and found his way to the kitchens. To his surprise, Rosa was already there.

She looked startled as he came. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning. I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

"Oh no, it's alright. I was just making some refreshments for tea, when Monsieur Peron and his family arrive. Would you like some breakfast?"

"What time is breakfast usually?"

"Eight, but I can make you something," Rosa offered. Erik felt a little awkward.

"Just some coffee, please…"

"Of course. Where would you like it?"

"The room with the piano, please."

"Ten minutes," Rosa said cheerfully, putting some water in a kettle and hanging it over the fire.

* * *

Erik found his way to the music room and sat at the piano. After a few quick notes, he found it to be in tune and began to play, simple tunes at first and then onto more complex pieces. His metal hand clanked against the keys and he made a note to wear gloves next time.

When Christine woke, a little while afterwards, she heard the distant sound of piano music and smiled. Dominique was still sleeping so Christine wrapped the blankets around her, got dressed, and went to find Erik.

He was playing with his eyes half-closed, almost in a trance. She stood in the doorway, listening to the lovely sound. When he finished he saw her standing there and smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning. That was lovely."

"The metal scrapes on the keys. I shall have to do something about that," he said. "By the way, does Dominique usually appear like that?"

"Oh yes. Not every night, I've been trying to break the habit. But sometimes she does."

"I don't remember her arriving."

"We were all tired. We probably slept through her arrival," Christine smiled, joining him at the piano.

Erik began to play absently, his eyes fixed on hers. She smiled and said quietly, "Did you write anything new? All that time, when you were beneath the Opera House… did you create anything new?"

"A few pieces. Nothing noteworthy. I didn't have a muse," he said simply.

Christine smiled. "I remember how, every time we had a lesson, I hoped that you would play me one of your songs. I did so love your music…" A dreamy look crossed her face. Erik watched her peacefully until she started to giggle.

"What, may I ask, do you find so amusing?"

"I was just… do you remember Carlotta's face when you sent that note, saying she was to be given the silent role?"

Erik's face widened into a smile as Christine laughed lightly. She wiped a tear from her eye and looked at him, still smiling.

"And when you appeared on the stage and sang _All I Ask Of You_… only you said 'Christine' instead of the character's name. I think you confused everyone!"

"Most of the fools in that Opera House get confused by the easiest of things."

"You caused so much trouble, when you were the Phantom of the Opera! You scared the chorus girls to death!"

"That was Joseph Buquet's stories," Erik reminded her.

She shrugged, "Yes, but you did keep appearing to goad him!"

"He deserved it. He was a fool."

"Oh, you call everyone a fool, Erik!" Christine said, lightly slapping his arm. He smirked and his arms darted out, catching her. She laughed again as he kissed her.

* * *

Dominique sat happily at the breakfast table as Christine buttered her some toast. She sang quietly to herself, only using the words _la la la_, since she wasn't sure of the words. As a matter of fact, it wasn't even a tune, but she was happy enough.

"Would you like some juice or milk?" Christine asked. Dominique paused in her quiet singing to consider.

"Juice, please," she said, and then started singing again. Erik looked across the table at his daughter, listening to her singing. Christine smiled and placed the toast on her plate.

"Uncle Thomas is coming to see us today, Little One." Dominique smiled. She liked Uncle Thomas. He always played with her.

She wondered if she would be able to play with both Papa and Uncle Thomas. Or was she only allowed to play with one at a time? This seemed very important, and she was going to ask Mama, but she was talking to Papa.

Dominique waited and then said, "Mama?"

"Yes, Little One?"

"Play with Uncle Thomas and Papa?"

"Yes, you can play together. You like playing with Uncle Thomas don't you?"

"Yes," Dominique confirmed, before turning her attention to her toast. Papa wasn't eating anything she noticed. That was bad. You _had_ to eat at breakfast. Mama said so. She looked at her mother.

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

"Papa's bad." They looked at her in surprise.

"Why is Papa bad?" Mama asked. Dominique sighed. Grown ups really were very silly sometimes. They made no sense. "Not eating." Mama looked over at Papa and then laughed. Papa looked confused.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No… but I always told Dominique that it's bad not to eat at breakfast."

Papa smiled slightly and took an apple. This appeased Dominique, who returned to her toast happily.

* * *

After breakfast they went to the music room. Dominique was happy enough to sit on the floor and watch Erik play, jumping occasionally to press a key, hoping to throw him off. Christine found this very entertaining. Erik looked down at his daughter.

"Would you like to play the piano?"

"Please!"

She climbed up and sat herself on his lap. Erik looked surprise but listened as she carefully played with one hand. It was only a short tune but she looked up for his approval and he gave it willingly.

"That was good." She proceeded to play _Three Blind Mice_ with one hand, pressing each key carefully.

Christine sat on the bench beside them and said, "One day you'll be able to play very well, won't you Dominique?"

"Yes. And sing."

"Yes, you'll sing as well," Christine laughed. Erik smiled at her slightly and played around Dominique. Christine recognized the song and smiled as Erik sang quietly.

"**No more talk of darkness**

**Forget these wild eyed fears…**"

Dominique looked up at her Papa and laughed loudly. "Papa sings!"

"Your Papa taught me to sing, Little One," Christine told her daughter, who looked dubious.

"Didn't."

"Yes, he did." Christine looking rather affronted.

"Didn't!" Dominique insisted.

Erik smirked and said, "I did teach her. Shall I show you?"

"Yes," Dominique said firmly.

Erik stood and put her down on the bench. Then he turned to Christine. "Come. We must prove our worth."

Christine eyed him, smiling. Then she stood and went to him. He looked at her. "Relax. Hold your chin high."

"I remember," she said quietly. Erik smiled and stood behind her.

"Close your eyes."

"Erik…" she said warningly.

"Close your eyes." He repeated and she obliged, looking skeptical. Erik crossed to the piano and began to play _Angel of Music_. Christine smiled and began to sing.

"_Angel of music_

_Guide and guardian_

_Grant to me_

_Your glory_…"

"Stop. You're too tense. Relax and try it again," Erik said.

Christine opened an eye. "Perhaps we should try a different song."

He looked at her and then smirked. His hands came down on the piano in a sinister song and Christine grinned as she recognized it.

"_In sleep he sang to me_

_In dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name_

_And do I dream again?_

_For now I find_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside my mind_…"

Erik smirked at her and she arched an eyebrow. Dominique listened in awe to her mother and then gasped in delight as Erik began to sing.

"**Sing once again with me**

**Our strange duet**

**My power over you**

**Grows stronger yet**

**And though you turn from me**

**To glance behind**

**The Phantom of the Opera is there**

**Inside your mind**…"

He played harshly, his fingers darting across the piano keys. Dominique stared at him, but his eyes were fixed on Christine and hers on him. She moved across, resting a hand on the top of the piano as she sang on.

"_Those who have seen your face_

_Draw back in fear_

_I am the mask you wear_…"

**"It's me they hear**," Erik interrupted and Dominique clasped her hands as they sang together.

"**_Your/my spirit and my/your voice_**

**_In one combined_**

**_The Phantom of the Opera_**

**_Is there_**

**_Inside my/your mind_**…"

Christine caught his eyes and sang quietly,

"_He's there_

_The Phantom of the Opera…_"

Erik smirked as she began to sing, no words, just that beautiful flowing of her voice, showing the full range of her voice. Her heart began to swell as she allowed the sound to surround her, lift her to heights she had rarely been to since she had left him.

And then she hit that high note. Before she would have been able to hold it for much longer, but now her voice wavered quickly and she fell silent. She tucked a stray lock of hear behind her ear and looked at him.

"It's been too long… I haven't practiced…"

"You will be great again," he promised quietly. For a few moments they looked at each other.

Then Dominique said innocently, "Sing, please."

Christine looked down at her darling daughter and lifted her into her arms. "Do you believe me now? Did Papa teach me?"

"Yes. Sing, please."

Christine laughed and put her down. "Very well. Shall we do some more singing?"

"Yes, please," Dominique said, looking up at Erik. He smiled and began to play _Think of Me_. Dominique giggled happily and started to sing, improvising the parts she didn't know with la's.

* * *

When Thomas and his family arrived that afternoon. The boys, Andrew and Christopher, were talking happily, pushing each other occasionally. They liked going to see Christine, she often fussed over them. Emily put a hand on her husband's arm.

"Don't be so tense. Everything will be fine."

"We'll see," Thomas muttered. Emily sighed and looked at the boys.

"You will behave, I hope. Christine's fiancé is going to be there and we want to make a good impression."

"I thought she wasn't going to get married," Christopher, the older son, said.

"This man is Dominique's father. I'm not sure exactly what happened between him and Christine, but I'm sure he's a very nice man," Emily said. Thomas snorted and Emily glared at him. "And we are _not_ going to prejudge."

Andrew and Christopher exchanged glances. They'd seen their father in moods before. It rarely turned out well.


	13. Part Thirteen

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Thirteen**

When the Peron family arrived at the house, Rosa answered the door with a smile. "Please, come in. They're out on the lawn."

They walked through the house to the back, where they saw Christine laughing as Dominique ran to a man dressed in black. The man caught her as she ran, swung her into the air, caught her again, and put her back down. She looked slightly dizzy, but was grinning happily.

Christine turned and saw the family. "You're here! Thomas, Emily, how are you?" After exchanging kisses, Christine smiled down at the boys. "You're both looking like adults now. I can barely believe how old you are!" She turned and called to them, "Erik, Dominique! The Perons are here."

"Uncle Thomas!" Dominique screamed excitedly, running to greet him. He smiled and lifted her into a hug.

"Hallo, Dominique. How are you?"

"Good." Dominique grinned. He set her down and she rushed back to Erik who lifted her into his arms. "Papa, Uncle Thomas!"

"So I see." Erik smiled, joining them on the patio.

He took Christine's hand and she smiled at him before turning to Thomas and his family. "Erik, this is Thomas Peron and his wife Emily. And these are their two sons, Andrew and Christopher."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Christine has told me a lot about you," Erik said, offering his hand. Thomas shook it briefly and Emily smiled.

"It's wonderful to meet you. We've been looking forward to it since the letter arrived."

"Well, let's sit down and have some tea," Christine said. Erik sat, with Dominique settled happily on his lap. Rosa came out with tea and cakes, putting them on the table. "Join us, Rosa," Christine smiled, and the girl accepted.

Once everyone was settled with tea or milk, Dominique reached for a biscuit. Erik was speaking with Christine, and Dominique stuffed the treat in his mouth. He spluttered slightly and Christine and Emily laughed. Andrew and Christopher grinned, and even Thomas couldn't help smirking. Erik swallowed the biscuit and looked down at the happy child. "Thank you for that, Dominique."

"Yes Papa. Nuver biscuit?"

"No, no, one is _quite_ enough," Erik said firmly.

Christine smiled and asked Erik, "Shall I take her?"

"It's fine," Erik said. Dominique was drinking from her milk cup and looking perfectly innocent.

Thomas looked at him. "So, when did you first meet Christine, Monsieur Erik?"

"Just Erik, please. And I met her many years ago, when we were both living in the Opera Populaire."

"Erik was my tutor; he helped me with my singing," Christine said, pouring milk for the boys.

Emily looked at her sons. "Why don't you go and play?"

They needed no further prompting and rushed off. Christine smiled at Thomas, "Erik was my truest friend, all through my childhood. We were very close."

"How long did you live at the Opera Populaire, Erik?" Emily asked.

"Since I was a young boy," Erik began, and then looked at Christine.

She nodded and said to Dominique, "Go and play with Andrew and Christopher for a little while. Rosa, would you go with them?"

"Of course," Rosa said, taking Dominique's hand. When they were out of earshot Christine looked at Thomas and Emily.

"Do you remember the rumours of the Phantom of the Opera?"

"The Phantom? Yes, I remember… the strange man who haunted the Opera House," Emily said, trying to recall. Christine looked at Erik.

"Erik… was the Phantom."

Thomas and Emily gaped at Erik, who didn't speak. Christine carried on, "I know how that may sound, but in truth he wasn't as bad as the rumours said. Many of them were started by ballet girls and stagehands. Actually, Erik rarely bothered the inhabitants of the Opera House."

"The threats to the managers, and to the performers? I suppose that was all in good fun?" Thomas asked sharply.

Christine frowned but Erik stepped in, "I admit, Monsieur Peron, that I made many mistakes during my time at the Opera Populaire."

"So it would seem. And when did you and Christine begin a relationship?" Thomas said. Christine answered for him.

"I was having problems, with the Patron of the Opera House. The Viscount de Martinez, do you recall?"

"I read in the paper that his love was kidnapped from him," Thomas said, but Christine shook her head.

"No, Erik rescued me from him. We were to be married, Erik and I, but the Viscount tracked us down and destroyed our house. I thought that Erik was dead and he believed that I had died. I found out that I was with child."

Between them, they told the astonished pair of how they had searched for each other, how they had remained apart due to misunderstandings.

"And you did not know that Christine had had a child?" Emily asked Erik. He nodded and glanced over at the playing Dominique.

"When Monsieur Reyer told me… I came at once. I arrived and saw Dominique but I felt that I could not intrude on Christine's life. So I returned to Paris immediately."

"But Dominique told me that she had seen a man with a mask. I knew it had to be Erik and took Dominique to Paris with me. I found Erik, and we talked for some time about what had happened," Christine said.

Erik's hand found hers and she looked at him lovingly. Emily saw and smiled. Thomas on the other hand was fuming. But he remained calm and said, "And now you are to be married?"

"As soon as possible. We have been apart for too long," Erik said firmly. Christine nodded.

"You always wanted me to get married, Thomas. I hope now I can put your mind at rest."

"Walk with me, Christine," Thomas said, getting to his feet. Emily looked at him warningly.

"Thomas…"

"It's alright, Emily," Christine said, rising. She released Erik's hand and walked with Thomas, around the edge of the large lawn. When they were some way away from Emily and Erik, Thomas turned to her.

"Christine, I'm not convinced that this is a good idea. This man… he will upset everything that you have made here. He will disrupt your life, as he did before. Don't you think it would be a better idea to marry someone of… of a higher standard?" he said, his moustache twitching. Christine looked at him calmly.

"No. I don't think it would be a better idea. I can tell that you don't approve, Thomas but I love Erik. I've always loved Erik. That's why I could never marry. I swore to myself that I would never marry anyone except Erik. I expected to remain alone for the rest of my life, but now I have the chance at the happiness we had for a short while so long ago."

Thomas groaned and massaged his head with one hand. Christine sighed. "Thomas, you are one of my closest friends and your opinion is extremely valuable to me. But on this matter, I refuse to be swayed. Erik and I _will_ be married. Of course, I want you and your family to remain close to myself and Dominique, and maybe, in time, Erik as well. So please… for my sake, get to know Erik. He's a wonderful man and he adores Dominique."

He stared down at her resolved face and sighed. "Fine… fine. I will try, for your sake, Christine."

"Thank you, Thomas. This means so much to me." Christine smiled, kissing his cheek. He didn't seem at all happy about the situation but as they sat down with Emily and Erik, who were talking amiably, he gave his wife a nod. She smiled at him gratefully.

Dominique came over and drank from her cup before looking at Christine. "Sing, please?"

"Not now, darling. Later."

"Sing, please?" Dominique said, turning to Erik.

Christine sighed. "No, Dominique."

"Sing, Papa?"

"Your mother said no," Erik pointed out. Dominique didn't seem to have quite grasped the concept that her parents could confer and stuck out her lip.

Emily smiled. "Oh, do sing for us, Christine. It's been so long since we heard you."

Erik and Christine looked at each other and then nodded. They all made their way to the music room and Erik sat at the piano.

"What song would you care for?" he asked Christine. She smiled.

"You choose." He considered and then began to play _All I Ask Of You_. Christine smiled widely and stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Rosa held Dominique who was looking happy at having got her own way. Andrew and Christopher looked vaguely interested, but would clearly prefer to be outside still. Emily and Thomas stood by the piano, watching carefully.

Erik sang his verse, his eyes fixed on the keys. But as Christine started her part, his eyes rose to meet hers. She sang with a tiny smile on her lips.

"…_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That's all I ask of you_…"

Erik began again and Dominique let out a happy sigh. Emily leant her cheek against Thomas shoulder as she watched the pair sing.

**Let me be your shelter**

**Let me be your light**

**You're safe**

**No one will find you**

**Your fears are far behind you**…

_All I want is freedom_

_A world with no more night_

_And you always beside me_

_To hold me and to hide me_.

Christine's luxurious voice wafted over them. She and Erik kept their eyes on each other. Thomas watched, a slight frown on his brow but unable to bring himself to say anything.

…**Anywhere you go let me go to**

**Christine**

**That's all I ask of you**...

Erik sang, his hands flying over the keys beautifully. Christine sang as well, her smile widening as she did so. As they began to sing together, Emily looked up at Thomas. He was watching them, no longer with a frown, but with an air of puzzlement.

"_Say you love me_." Christine sang quietly.

Erik smiled gently. "**You know I do…"**

"**_Love me _**

**_That's all I ask of you…_**"

The song ended on a perfect note, but no one moved. Christine and Erik were still watching each other closely, as though afraid the other would disappear. Eventually Emily said quietly, "That was beautiful."

"Thank you, Emily," Christine replied, smiling. Erik frowned, flexing his right hand. Christine touched the glove. "Is everything alright?"

"I knocked it. Something's out of place," he said.

Emily moved forward. "I might be able to help. The boys are always hurting themselves."

"I don't think you'll be able to help with this," Erik said, smiling wryly. Christine sat down on the bench and pulled the glove off carefully.

Thomas gasped and Emily drew back. "My god! What happened to your hand?" Thomas asked, shocked. Andrew and Christopher had run forward in fascination.

"I had an accident. Christine, is there a pin in the glove?" Erik said, examining the hand. Christine tipped the glove up and a small metal pin fell into her hand.

The Perons watched in a sort of morbid fascination as Erik carefully placed the pin back into position. He flexed the hand into a fist and unfurled it again. "That's better," he said, reaching for the glove.

Christopher piped up, "Monsieur le Phantome? How does it work?"

Erik looked surprised and briefly explained about the pressure points in the arm that would move each part of the hand. Andrew and Christopher looked fascinated but Emily frowned at them. "Don't be so rude, boys."

"It's quite alright, Emily," Christine assured her as the boys questioned him.

Andrew, the younger son, asked curiously, "Why do you have a mask?"

Christine turned sharply and Erik looked at her. She cleared her throat. "Let's go outside. It's a lovely day, we really shouldn't waste it." They all began to move outside.

Erik caught Christine's hand. "Thank you."

"It's nothing. You don't need to answer any questions if you don't want to," she assured him. They went outside where Emily and Thomas were talking quietly.

"Ah, there you are! We were just saying you should come to dinner next week. We've been planning a dinner party and now seems as good a time as any. On Friday," Emily said cheerfully. Erik and Christine exchanged a glance.

"That sounds lovely, Emily. We'd be delighted to come," Christine replied graciously. Thomas clapped his hands together.

"Excellent. It would be a good chance to introduce you to some friends, start socializing," he said, sounding efficient. Christine smiled.

"It's a wonderful idea. Would any of you like some more tea?"

* * *

"How did you like Thomas?" Christine asked that night, as she and Erik sat in the living room. Erik sighed.

"I don't think he warmed to me."

"He's a difficult man to get on with. I… he's a little protective."

"So I gathered. He doesn't want us to marry, does he?" Erik said quietly.

Christine didn't look at him. "No. He doesn't."

Erik didn't speak so Christine pushed on. "When I was pregnant, with Dominique, he invited me to a dinner party in the hope that I would meet someone. Of course, as soon as they found out I was pregnant, every eligible man vanished. But I refused to marry."

"Why?"

The question surprised her and she looked at him plainly. "Because I only ever would have married you. I'd have thought that were obvious."

Erik sighed deeply. "I'm not… your life is very different."

"I know. There's much less privacy, and if you don't go to dinner parties and balls you end up insulting someone or other. It's not easy," Christine said. She looked at him. "It's not the life you want."

"What I _want_ is to be with you. And there is no price too high for that," Erik said, pulling her towards him.

She smiled and said quietly, "I love Thomas dearly, but nothing would ever make me give you up. Not again."

"Never again," Erik murmured, kissing her.

* * *

The following Friday, Christine was dressing when Erik put Dominique to bed. "Papa?"

"Yes Dominique?"

"Where going?"

"Your mother and I are going to have dinner with Uncle Thomas."

"Want to come."

"Maybe next time. You'd be bored," Erik told her.

Dominique frowned but then sighed. "Sing, please." Erik hummed her a lullaby as Christine came in. Dominique sighed. "Pretty, Mama!"

Erik turned and smiled at the sight of her. She was dressed in a pale blue evening gown, and had piled her hair on top of her head, allowing curls to tumble down. She kissed Dominique's head. "Go to sleep, Little One. Rosa will be here if you wake up," she told her. Dominique nodded and reached for her doll. Christine tucked it in under the blankets with her and looked at Erik. "Ready to go?"

"Yes. You look beautiful." She flushed slightly, her cheeks turning a charming pink. Erik smiled and looked down at the little girl who was watching them in interest. "Goodnight, Dominique."

"Night, Papa. Night Mama."

* * *

As they sat in the carriage on the way to Thomas's, Christine sighed. "I don't like leaving her, even now."

"I know. I've known her for a little over a week and I already worry about her."

"That's parenting for you. She adores you."

"I love her. I didn't think it was possible to love two people so much," Erik said quietly. Christine smiled gently.

"That's because your life was so hard. I doubt you were able to love anyone because nobody loved you. That's changed now."

"A definite change for the better," Erik agreed.

Christine smiled and said, "Let's get through tonight though. We're going to have to put up with a lot of gossiping."

"I'm sure we can manage a little gossip. But let's not draw attention to ourselves," he said.

* * *

Emily greeted them warmly as they entered the dining room. "How are you both?"

"We're well, thank you Emily," Christine smiled and looked around. There were about twenty other people present.

"We're expecting a couple more. Please, go and talk," Emily said, waving them on.

Erik's hand found Christine's and she smiled at him. "Nervous?"

"No. Are you?"

"A little. I don't know why, but I am," she admitted.

Thomas caught sight of them and waved them over. He was talking with another couple, older than them. "Lord and Lady Maurier, may I introduce you to Erik and Christine Le Phantome? The Maurier's come from Nice and are visiting family," Thomas told them.

Christine smiled. "It is an honour to meet you."

"And you. I'm sorry, what were the names?" Lady Maurier asked politely. Thomas moved away to speak with Emily, leaving the four of them to talk.

"Erik le Phantome and Christine le Phantome." Christine smiled.

Lord Maurier asked, "I expect you will be the youngest here. Have you been married long?"

Christine glanced at Erik who replied for her. "We are not yet married. Engaged."

"Oh, how lovely. Do you live nearby?" Lady Maurier asked, sipping her wine.

"Near the town, in the large house," Christine replied.

"Oh, I think I know it. Do you have many servants?"

"Just one maid. There are only three of us to look after, we manage quite well," Christine said serenely.

Lady Maurier frowned. "Three?"

"Our daughter, Dominique le Phantome."

"So… you have a child but are not yet married?" Lord Maurier asked incredulously.

Erik nodded. "That is correct."

"And how old is… Dominique, did you say?"

"Yes. She is a little over two years of age," Christine replied.

The Maurier's exchanged a glance. Christine said, "Erik and I were engaged to be married before Dominique's birth but there were… unforeseen circumstances. As a result Erik and I did not see each other for several years. We reunited a couple of weeks ago."

"I see. That's very unusual," Lady Maurier said delicately.

Lord Maurier said, in confusion, "I heard that the owner of the house also saw over the surrounding lands."

"That is me. I run the estate, through the tenants," Christine said calmly.

"_You_ run the lands?"

"Yes. I manage well enough."

Lady Maurier touched her husband's sleeve. "Come, we should talk to the Gralisers. It's a pleasure," she said to Erik and Christine. They moved off and Christine looked up at Erik, with one eyebrow raised.

"And so it begins. In approximately five minutes, everyone in the room will know that we are unmarried, have a child and that a woman runs the estate."

"So I see. Wine?" Erik said, unconcernedly.

* * *

By the time they sat down to dinner, the word had indeed spread and they were receiving some odd glances. Erik pulled out Christine's chair for her and she sat down. He sat next to her. On Christine's other side was Emily and directly opposite were the Maurier's.

As they ate the starter, Emily quietly inquired after Dominique.

"She's quite well. She wanted to come tonight, but Erik assured her that she would be quite bored."

Emily laughed and said, "You must bring her some time. I know you don't like to take her away from your home, but she'd be quite safe here."

"I know. I suppose I'm rather overprotective," Christine admitted. Erik smirked and she smiled. "Don't look like that! You're just as bad. Dominique won't go to bed anymore unless Erik sings her a lullaby," she told Emily.

"Really? Oh, that's so sweet," Emily laughed.

Erik smirked again and said, "She has a musician's temper."

"From your side," Christine added. Erik eyed her.

"Now, Christine, you've been known to have your own artistic tantrums in your time."

"Not as much as you," Christine shot back instantly. Erik shrugged.

"I'm not going to deny it, but neither am I going to take full responsibility for Dominique's attitude."

Emily laughed at them. "Come, don't argue. Dominique's a lovely child. And I would quite like to hear more about Christine's artistic tantrums."

"I hardly ever had them. Not as much as Carlotta."

"No one could ever claim to outshine Carlotta in _that_ field," Erik said, sipping his drink. Christine laughed and, seeing Emily's bemused look, explained.

"Carlotta was the leading Soprano at the Opera Populaire. She _loathed_ me and I doubt there was a single rehearsal when she didn't make an enormous fuss over something or other."

"Excuse me… I'm sorry to interrupt, but did you mention the Opera Populaire?" said a friendly looking woman a little further down the table. Christine nodded.

"Yes, I did."

"I was there last week, watching their performance of _Il Muto_. It was a good performance. I believe Madame Carlotta was playing the countess."

"She would be," Erik muttered and Christine tutted at him before smiling at the woman.

"Carlotta has a strong stage presence."

"She certainly does. Have you been to the Opera often?" the woman's husband asked. Christine hesitated and then nodded.

"Yes. I used to perform at the Opera Populaire."

There was a stunned silence and the woman said, in disbelief, "You were? But I thought that you were of noble blood?"

"Not particularly. My father was a violinist. When he died I went to live at the Opera Populaire."

"What did you do there?" Lady Maurier asked. Erik could see that everyone was interested. They would be, he thought dryly, this was probably the most excitement they were going to have for the next month.

"I started as a dancer, and then I sang for a period of time," Christine said. Thomas cleared his throat and Christine glanced over at him.

Emily frowned at her husband and then said, "Yes, Christine is a wonderful singer."

"Of course, I haven't sung properly for years. A little practice occasionally, but nothing taxing."

"Wait a moment… you aren't the girl who performed when that strange man got onto the stage, were you?" someone further down the table asked. Everyone glanced down at the woman who was frowning, trying to remember. A moment later she smiled. _"All I Ask Of You_! That was the song! Everyone was evacuated from the theatre afterwards, we were told that there was an intruder. Do you remember?" she asked. Christine smiled slightly.

"I remember. And yes, I was the girl who performed the song."

"It was so extraordinary! We heard that it was the Phantom of the Opera who performed with you," the woman said, looking to her husband for confirmation. He nodded and then laughed.

"All nonsense, of course. Who would believe in that?"

Everyone laughed and Christine glanced at Erik. He was smirking slightly and Christine laughed quietly. The man finished laughing and asked, "But I do remember that performance. It was very good, very convincing."

"What did the 'phantom' look like?" somebody asked, and he screwed his face up.

"You know, I can't remember too well. The only thing I noticed was that he wore a…"

"A mask?" Christine asked quietly.

Everyone's eyes fell on Erik who sipped his wine calmly. He looked down at Christine and smirked.

"Let me assure you, there is no Phantom of the Opera. It was simply a publicity stunt cooked up by the managers."

"Were you the man who performed that night?"

"I was. All part of the publicity, I assure you. I was hired by the managers to create a fuss. It brings business in, you see," Erik said. Christine bit her lip in an effort not to laugh.

"And your name? Le Phantome?" Lord Maurier asked.

"Pure coincidence, Monsieur," Christine smiled.

Everyone looked dubious and Erik said smoothly, "You do not believe in the story of the Phantom of the Opera? Absolute myth and I doubt company such as this would be drawn in by such a stunt."

There was a chorus of 'of course not' and 'not for a moment'. Erik winked quickly at Christine who couldn't help smiling at the way he had handled the situation. Lady Maurier said sweetly, "Perhaps, after dinner, you would give us a taste of song? I can't say I care much for opera, but maybe you can change my mind."

Erik and Christine looked at each other quickly but Thomas said, "Of course you must. There is a piano in the parlour. We shall adjourn there later."

The conversation soon turned away from the subject and Christine said quietly to Erik, "Is this alright?"

"It's fine. We should have expected a fuss."

"Hmm. You handled it beautifully."

"A little improvisation can go far, my darling," he murmured. Christine laughed and turned to speak with Emily.

* * *

After dinner, Erik and Christine were reluctantly moved towards the parlour. The woman who had seen the performance was talking brightly to Christine. "It was lovely performance. But you don't sing anymore?"

"Not really. I have the estate to take care of, but I love music," Christine said.

Emily pulled a sheet off a piano and opened the lid. "Here. I don't know how well tuned it is, we haven't used it in so long," she said. Erik ran his hands over the keys in an impossibly fast tune.

"It sounds fine," he assured her. Christine stood by the piano as Erik looked up at her. The rest of the guests sat down or stood in a semicircle around the piano. "What song?" Erik inquired. Christine smiled.

"I really don't mind. You choose, Erik."

"Oh, sing that one you did for us one time, Christine. What was it… Thinking of me?" Emily said.

"Oh, _Think of Me_," Christine smiled.

Thomas interrupted, "No, do _All I Ask Of You_. So we can hear Monsieur Le Phantome sing."

Erik looked at Christine who nodded. "_All I Ask Of You_ then."

"As my angel commands," Erik murmured. Christine smiled as he began to play.

The audience listened in amazement as Erik sang his first verse. Christine could have laughed at the looks on their faces but didn't of course. Instead she waited for her cue and then began to sing, her eyes fixed on Erik's. A collective sigh went around the guests as they began to sing together. Christine's favourite part was when she sang,

_Say you love me_

And Erik would look at her, that tiny smile on his face as he replied,

**You know I do**

**_Love me _**

**_That's all I ask of you_**

As the song faded away, Christine couldn't tear her eyes away from Erik's. After a few moments of silence the guests applauded generously.

"That was simply wonderful."

"You sounded so lovely."

"You're both so very talented."

Erik kissed Christine's hand. "You sounded perfect."

"I had a good teacher," she smiled, teasingly. There was a knock on the door and one of the servants entered. Thomas turned to him.

"Yes?"

"There's a messenger here, for the Le Phantomes."

"Show him in."

Christine frowned as a boy from the village entered, clutching his hat in his hands.

"Yes?" she asked. Erik stood beside her and the boy trembled.

"There's… There's been a burglary."

"What?" Christine said in disbelief.

The boy licked his dry lips and said, "At the house. The police are there now."

"My god!" Emily gasped and Christine's heart almost stopped.

She whirled and stared at Erik. "Dominique!"

Erik looked at the boy. "What about our daughter? Is she…?"

"I don't know, monsieur. I was told to tell you to come as quickly as possible."

"Very well. Go," Erik said as Christine cried aloud, clasping her hands over her mouth. The boy slipped out and Erik turned to Christine, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Christine, stay calm."

"Dominique! What if she's hurt? My god, Erik, how could we have left her?" Christine cried, tears falling down her face.

"Dominique will be fine. I promise you," Erik said, taking her into his arms and holding her tightly.

She wept into his chest and then pulled away. "We have to go. We have to go to her!"

"Emily, Thomas, my apologies," Erik said quickly.

"Of course, hurry! We'll follow, to make sure everything is alright," Emily said. Erik took Christine's hand and pulled her towards the door.

The guests looked at each other and got up to follow.

* * *

Erik took two horses from the stables.

"We will get there faster on horseback. Can you ride?"

"I'll be fine," Christine said, climbing onto one of the horses. They set off quickly, forcing the horses to gallop.

It took them about twenty minutes. When they got to the house, the police were already there. An officer stopped them. "Names?"

"We live here," Erik told him. Christine ran forwards.

"Where is she? Where is Dominique?" She saw Rosa, who was shaking and in tears, talking to a policeman. She darted towards the maid and took her arm. "What happened Rosa?"

"I was sitting upstairs and I heard men downstairs. They were looking through all the rooms for something, I don't know what. I hid Dominique, but they found me when I went downstairs to see if we could escape. They saw me and chased me upstairs, but I hid in the wardrobe in one of the spare bedrooms," Rosa explained in a hysterical voice. Christine shook her arm.

"Where is Dominique?"

"I hid her in the cupboard in her bedroom! But when I went there to fetch her, she was gone!" Rosa cried, collapsing into a fit of tears.

Christine turned to Erik, who had heard. "What do we do?"

"She might still be in the house. We'll search for her," Erik said. They ran to the house and started to call her name.

"Dominique! Dominique, please, where are you? Answer me!"

"Dominique, it's Mama and Papa."

They searched upstairs and the police joined them in searching. It was nearly an hour later when the police insisted they go outside to calm down.

"If you carry on like this, you could become too distressed. Please, go outside and get some fresh air."

So they waited outside. Erik held Christine tightly. "We will find her. I promise you that we will find her."

"She'll be so scared, Erik," Christine whispered. They looked up as a series of carriages arrived, carrying the guests from the dinner party. Thomas and Emily ran to them.

"What's happened?"

"Dominique has gone," Erik whispered. Christine bit her lip to stop it trembling and buried her face in Erik's chest. The guests starting to talk loudly but Erik ignored them. "We will find her."

"What if they took her? What if the men took her away?" Christine cried. Erik couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say. The door to the house opened and they both looked up. A policeman came out, carrying a struggling bundle in his arms.

"Mama! Want Mama and Papa!"

"_Dominique_!" Christine screamed. The policeman set the struggling child down and she ran to her parents. Christine and Erik ran forward, scooping her up. Christine's cries were mingled with the relief-filled voices of the guests and the policemen.

"Dominique… thank God, you're safe." Christine wept, holding the child close to her chest. Erik put his arms around them both, relief filling him.

"Bad men," Dominique sniffled.

Christine stroked her hair and said, "It's alright. The bad men have gone."

Erik took Dominique in his arms and asked, "Are you hurt, Dominique? Did the men hurt you?" She shook her head, clutching her doll to her chest. Erik closed his eyes and hugged her tightly. "Thank God… thank God…" he whispered. And he sank to his knees, still holding Dominique tightly to him. Christine fell too and the three of them sat on the ground, completely unaware of the commotion around them as they held each other closely.

Eventually Dominique said, "Bad men gone?"

"Yes, they're gone. Where did you go?" Christine asked.

"Bed. Went to bed."

"Mama and Papa's bed?"

"Yes. Bad men came, but gone now," Dominique mumbled. She looked up at Erik. "Bad men wanted Papa."

Erik and Christine looked at each other and then at their daughter. "How do you know, Little One?" Christine asked quietly. Dominique sniffed.

"Said so. Wanted mask."

"They wanted the man with the mask?" Erik asked. She nodded and Erik said, "What did they say, Dominique? What did they say about the Papa?"

"Said Papa took…"

"Took what?" Christine asked. Dominique screwed up her face, trying to remember. Christine and Erik waited patiently. "Took… took Mama. Said took Mama."

Christine looked at Erik in confusion. He looked as bewildered as she did. Dominique said, "Bad men took box."

"What box?"

"Mama's box," Dominique said, as though it were obvious which box. Christine frowned and Erik looked at her.

"There was nothing valuable in it. Just a few old trinkets and bits from the Opera House."

"Like what?"

"Well… some costume jewellery. Programmes from the shows. A couple of little pictures of the chorus girls. A piece of your old mask, after it was broken. Nothing of value. Why on earth…?"

"Monsieur?" a policeman said.

They all looked up at him and Erik replied, "Yes?"

"We found this pinned to a door." They looked at the object in his hands.

Christine stared in disbelief and Erik frowned. Dominique had become bored with the whole thing and was playing with her doll. Erik looked at Christine. "Isn't that…?"

She reached out and took the pink mask. She turned it over in her hands. "The mask I wore to the Masquerade Ball. But… I thought I left it at the Opera House."

"There was also this." The policeman said. He handed her a note labelled _Christine Daae_.

Christine took the note and stared at it.

"What sort of burglar breaks in, takes a box of worthless trinkets and leaves a note?" Erik said, bewildered. Christine silently tore open the note. Her eyes scanned it. Erik was watching her and she went deathly pale.

"No… it isn't possible…" she whispered. Erik took the note and read it.

_You are still mine, Christine Daae_.

"The mask. He must have taken it," Christine whispered. Erik shook his head.

"No, Christine. This is… someone is playing tricks on you. He is _dead_. The dead don't write notes."

"Then how do you explain this, Erik?" Christine shouted.

Dominique looked up at her mother, surprised to hear her harsh tone. Emily and Thomas came forward.

"What's happened?"

"Nothing. I think we need to get some sleep. We'll sort this out in the morning," Erik said quietly. Christine nodded and bent to pick up Dominique.

* * *

It took them some time to clear everyone out of the grounds. Rosa returned to the village to sleep, still shaken by her ordeal. Dominique climbed into her parent's bed and went to sleep almost instantly. Christine set the mask down on the desk. Erik put his arms around her waist.

"He is dead, Christine. This isn't him."

"Who could it be though? Who could possibly have gotten hold of that mask? It disappeared that night. He must have taken it with him when he left. I didn't see," Christine whispered.

"Someone is trying to scare you. We will find out who it is. But it is not the Viscount de Martinez. He is _dead_."

She turned and looked up at him. "Erik, it's working. I _am_ scared. He nearly killed you. I can't lose you."

"You won't. Whoever is doing this to us will not go unpunished. I promise you that," he said, kissing her.

She kissed him back and then said, "We should sleep…"

"I know," he whispered. They lay down on either side of Dominique, being careful not to wake her. But it was sometime before either of them slept.

**A/N: Well, that's it! You've finally caught up with me! I haven't finished chapter 14 yet because school is keeping me down. In fact I'm supposed to be doing my Health and Social Care Coursework right now, but instead I'm posting this and reading all the lovely reviews you left! Lol, OK, gonna work now… _starts daydreaming about Erik and Christine_.**


	14. Part Fourteen

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Part Fourteen**

The next day, Christine asked Rosa to keep Dominique busy while she and Erik talked. Sitting in the study of the house, they both examined the mask and the note. Christine massaged her temples and said quietly, "This doesn't make _sense_. Who could have gotten hold of the mask?"

"You left it on the table. The Viscount arrived, you got hurt and then he left. Did he take the mask with him?"

"I don't know. I was on the floor, I didn't see. He might have done. It was definitely gone when you brought me back the next day. I never really thought about it before," Christine said thoughtfully.

Erik settled back in his chair, looking at the pink mask. "It's definitely not him. It must be someone who knew what happened."

"That's most of the Opera House."

"It won't be one of them. What about the Viscount's men? They were at the house that night," Erik pondered.

Christine picked up the mask and turned it over in her hands. She chewed her lip, trying to think. "Maybe… maybe someone is seeking revenge. For the death of the Viscount," she wondered aloud.

Erik said, "Possibly. I don't know if he had family."

"Neither do I. He wasn't married, I know that much. But I don't know if he had brothers or sisters, or even parents." She put the mask down on the desk and picked up the note. "Daae… I have been using the name le Phantome for years now. No one in the town knows my true name. Not even Thomas."

"So whoever wrote this note knows who you are. Who we are," Erik said quietly.

"And now they know about Dominique," Christine murmured.

They sat in silence. Christine glanced at Erik. He met her eye and said, "We should find out if the Viscount had family. This is most likely to be them. And I want you and Dominique to go away somewhere."

"Erik, no."

"Listen to me. If we can get you both away and in hiding, you will be safe."

"I am not going to leave you!" Christine said angrily.

Erik got to his feet and started to pace the room furiously. "And what do you suggest we do then? Stay here and wait for those men to come back with reinforcements? If they find me, they will kill me. They will take you away and will probably get rid off Dominique. If we stay here we are in danger."

"We will be in danger wherever we go! I will not leave you again! If we're going to be in danger, we have to stay together," Christine said, getting to her feet and glaring at him furiously. Erik stared at her and then shook his head.

"Christine, please, listen to sense…"

"Erik, I will not leave you. I will not leave Dominique. We are a family and, God help me, we are going to behave like one and stay together!"

He looked at her in surprise. Her face was filled with anger, her fists clenched. He crossed over to her and slipped his arms around her. "Then we need a different plan."

"I know. We should… we should find out about the Viscount. And leave here. They will find us too easily; we should go somewhere more crowded, where it will be harder for them to find us," she suggested.

Erik looked down at her. "Paris?" she asked.

"Maybe… but we need to find out who sent that message and why," he said.

"We can find out about the Viscount's family in Paris. But… Dominique…"

"We can ask Thomas and Emily to look after her. She will be safe with them. We can't travel fast enough with her."

Christine's face screwed up at the thought of leaving her daughter but Erik kissed her forehead. "She will be safe there. If we take her to Paris we take her to danger. That much is certain."

"… I will send for Thomas and Emily now," Christine said reluctantly.

* * *

When Thomas and Emily arrived a couple of hours later, they went to the study. Erik stood to greet them. Christine was standing by the window, her arms wrapped around her. They could see that she had been crying.

"What happened last night?" Thomas asked. Erik invited them to sit and explained. As he did so, Christine gazed out of the window, willing herself not to cry again. When he had finished Thomas said, "What… what are you going to do?"

"Christine and I will travel to Paris as soon as possible. We will find out about the Viscount's family and try to find out who it is that sent the note. But we cannot take Dominique. It will be far too dangerous," Erik said.

Emily understood what he was saying and said, "We will take care of her. We will keep her safe." Christine let out a slight sob and took a shuddering breath before sitting down beside Erik. Thomas looked at her.

"Shouldn't the police take care of this?"

"And what do we tell them? That we are receiving threatening notes from a man who has been dead for several years, who is hunting for the Phantom of the Opera and a woman who changed her name years ago?" Christine said quietly. Thomas didn't look happy.

"This doesn't seem like a very practical idea, Christine."

"Thomas, you don't understand. The Viscount made our lives a living hell. And someone out there is going to haunt us until the day we die, unless we put a stop to it _now_," Christine said frankly.

Thomas looked sceptical. "Surely it wasn't that bad. Perhaps if you just-"

"Not that bad? Thomas, he tried to _rape_ me. On more than one occasion. If Erik hadn't saved me… he destroyed our home, separated us and tried to kill Erik!" Christine said furiously.

Emily took her hand. "Christine, please… we will take care of Dominique. Do whatever you need to, whatever it takes. We will keep her safe."

Christine rang for Rosa, who arrived a moment later. "Yes Madame?"

"Rose, I need you to pack some of Dominique's things. She will be staying with the Perons for a few days. Please bring her to us first." Rosa looked puzzled but went to fetch Dominique. The little girl ran in excitedly. Christine sat her on her lap and looked down at her. "Little One, you're going to stay with Uncle Thomas for a while. Won't that be fun?"

Dominique smiled excitedly. "Mama and Papa, too?"

"… No, Dominique. Mama and Papa have to go to Paris for a little while. That's why you get to go and stay with Uncle Thomas."

"Want Mama and Papa!" Dominique mumbled, her face creasing miserably. Erik took her tiny hand in his own gloved one.

"It will only be for a little while. And then we will all be together again." Dominique's lip wobbled and Christine hugged her.

"Don't cry, Dominique. Please don't cry."

"It will be fun. You can play with Andrew and Christopher," Emily said comfortingly.

Dominique didn't look convinced and Christine said, "I know. When you're at Uncle Thomas' you can practice singing. Then, when Papa and I come back, you sing for us and surprise us! Won't that be fun?"

Dominique considered for a moment and then nodded. "Sing."

"That's right," Christine said, hugging her tightly. Erik took Dominique and held her too.

"You'll be a good girl, won't you?"

"Yes, Papa. Sing good."

"Good girl."

When Rosa returned with Dominique's bag, Erik picked his daughter up and they all walked down the drive to the carriage. Christine kissed Dominique so many times she soon grew tired and told her mother off. Erik kissed her head and the three of them hugged tightly. Emily held out her arms for her and Erik reluctantly passed the girl over. Christine felt her heart clench and squeezed Erik's hand tightly.

The carriage set off and Christine felt tears threatening. She pushed her face into Erik's shoulder and he put his arms around her as the carriage went over the hill and out of sight.

"I let her go… I let her go…" Christine whispered, unable to believe it.

Erik held her closely and said, "We have to go. We have to set off."

* * *

They rode in the carriage in silence. Christine stared down at her hands and Erik could not bring himself to look at her. It was only when night drew near that the driver suggested they find an Inn.

"Carry on to the nearest town," Erik told him and the driver flicked the horses into moving. Erik looked over at Christine and said hesitantly, "We can finish the journey tomorrow."

"Very well," Christine said quietly.

Erik's heart wrenched painfully. She blamed him for this separation from her daughter. From _their_ daughter. He wanted to say something, to touch her, to end her pain but knew he couldn't. So he sat in silence.

When they arrived at the inn, Erik paid for two rooms. One for themselves and one for the driver. He turned to Christine. "Are you hungry?" She shook her head and he said to the innkeeper, "We shall retire for the night."

"Very good, monsieur," he said, handing Erik a key.

In their room, Christine removed her cloak and hung it on the back of the door. A bowl of clean water stood nearby and she washed her face. Erik stood by the window, looking out at the street below. He turned to look at Christine. She was watching him through the darkness, for they had not lit the lamps.

"I'm sorry, Erik..." she whispered.

He frowned slightly. "What for?"

"For being so… so unfair. It's just that I've never left her before. Never. And I was just so afraid…" She couldn't carry on. Erik crossed to her and put his arms about her.

"It's not your fault. I know you didn't want to leave her."

"I know she'll be safe with Thomas and Emily but…"

"Shh…" he whispered.

She looked up at him. His eyes met hers. She reached up and pulled the mask away. He flinched slightly but she whispered, "Shh," and kissed him softly. Tentatively Erik cupped her face with his hands. Her own fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt but he whispered, "Are you certain?"

"No. But I need to..." She murmured.

Erik knew that she was upset and that she wasn't thinking straight. But he loved her. And at that moment all he wanted to do was give her what she wanted. And he did.

If he had been paying attention, and had looked out onto the street again, he would have seen someone standing there, looking up at the window, where only moments before, they had seen a white mask.

* * *

They continued to Paris the next day. Erik rented them a room in a hotel and Christine went straight to the Opera House.

Rehearsals were underway but she went straight to the office. André looked up as she knocked.

"What is it?" he asked brusquely. She looked in and he stared in astonishment. "Miss Daae. We weren't expecting you."

"Please, Monsieur, I must ask something of you," she said quickly. He sensed her urgency and offered her a seat. She sat and said, "Two nights ago my home was broken into. I believe it may be something to do with the Viscount de Martinez. I need to know if he has any family."

"A brother, I believe. Vincent de Martinez. He took over the estate after the Viscount's death. But, Miss Daae, I don't understand. Why do you think the Viscount had anything to do with it?"

Christine shook her head. "I cannot tell you. I am sorry, but I don't want to let anything out in case whoever it is finds out."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" André asked. Christine shook her head.

"No… but please, don't tell anyone I was here. Not yet, it may be too dangerous."

And she slipped out without another word.

* * *

Erik was sat at the table of their lavish hotel room when Christine entered. His head was bent low, the mask to her, his hands over his hair.

"The Viscount had a brother, who now runs their estate. His name is Vincent de Martinez," Christine said, hanging her coat on a stand and turning to him. He didn't move. Christine frowned. "Erik? What is wrong?"

She crossed and touched his arm. His hand darted out and seized her wrist. She cried aloud and then screamed as he got to his feet. It wasn't Erik at all, but a man with dark hair, wearing his mask.

"Who are you? Where is Erik?" she demanded, struggling.

The man smirked and said, "Got her."

Several more men emerged from the other rooms. Christine stared around at them, trying to pull free. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Where is Erik?" she demanded. The man wearing Erik's mask sneered at her.

"That deformed freak has already been taken on ahead."

"Taken where?" Christine demanded.

Suddenly a hand clamped around her mouth, clutching a cloth. Her visions blurred and she tried scream but her voice wasn't working properly. Her limbs became unbearably heavy and darkness overcame her.

* * *

He felt blood on his face. It was warm and sticky. Erik reached up with his right hand to touch it. It was then that he realised the false hand was gone. He stared at the stump of his wrist and then looked blearily around the room he was in.

It was a cellar of some kind. He had been in the hotel room and someone had knocked on the door. Men had entered and hit him over the head before he could move. The last thing he remembered was someone removing his mask. He touched his face and found it was gone.

He managed to sit up and winced at the throbbing pain in his skull. He moaned and looked around. Where the hell was he? Standing slowly, he started to move around the room. No windows, but he could tell that he was underground. That came from living there so long.

Christine… where was Christine? He turned to the thick wooden door and tried the handle. It was, of course, locked. Erik began to pound his fist on the door, shouting to be released. There was no reply and Erik sank to the ground, holding his head in his hands.

"Christine… forgive me…" he whispered.

* * *

She could hear two voices. Both belonged to men. Christine struggled to open her eyes and looked around, peering blearily. The images of the men came into view. One was the man who had worn Erik's mask. It was nowhere to be seen now. The second man, she didn't recognize.

Christine lay on a sofa, in a sitting room somewhere. The man she knew gestured to her and the second man turned. Christine's eyes widened and she whispered hoarsely, "No… you're dead… you're…"

The man laughed and signalled for the first man to leave. Then he turned to Christine who was still lying on the sofa, unable to move her burning limbs. She stared at him and he said, "A mistake on your part, Miss Daae. I am not William de Martinez. Although many have commented on how similar my brother I and looked."

"Brother… you are Vincent de Martinez…"

Vincent smirked, looking uncannily like his brother. The same strong build, set jaw, blue eyes and blond hair. They were almost indistinguishable. "You've heard of me. Good. Now, let me tell you what I know about you." He stared down at her. Christine stared back, unable to believe what was happening.

"You started out as a dancing girl in the Opera Populaire, where my brother was Patron. You were quickly promoted to a singer, with my brother's help. Time and time again he offered you everything you ever wanted and you always refused. My brother was _distraught_. And then he discovered that you were the whore of the Opera Ghost. He saved you from that, turning the Ghost out of the Opera House. He tried to bring you here, to his estate, where you would be safe. But you were taken from him once again. He searched for you for months. And when he finally found you, he tried to destroy the Opera Ghost, or Phantom, again. And what did you do? You and that deformed beast?" He sneered down at her, anger smouldering in his eyes. "_You_ _killed him._ You _killed_ my only brother."

"He fell," Christine whispered. Vincent snorted.

"Fell? _Fell_? My brother, Miss Daae, was an extremely athletic man. I very much doubt he simply _fell_."

"Your brother's death was pure accident. And if it wasn't, it was his own fault for attacking Erik and I," Christine said furiously, managing to sit up. Vincent stared at her.

"I swore, when I took over the estate, that I would hunt you down, you and the Phantom. I found you easily enough, Christine le Phantome. And I knew that sooner or later the Phantom would join you. So I watched you. I had men in the village who reported to me regularly. And when I discovered that the Phantom had returned to you, I had men go to your house."

"They left the mask and took my box," Christine said weakly.

Vincent considered her and then nodded. Christine closed her eyes, regained a little strength and then opened them again. "Why? What could you possibly have hoped to gain by doing this?"

"All that my brother wanted was you. I promised him, on his grave, that I would find you and bring you here."

"And what now? What do you want from me?"

"Keeping you from the Phantom will be enough. For now," he said, allowing his eyes to wander her freely. Christine felt a shudder of disgust and loathing go through her.

"William de Martinez was a cruel man who made my life a living hell," she spat. Vincent smirked.

"Really, is that any way to speak of the dead?"

"Let me go. Now," Christine said, getting shakily to her feet. Vincent looked amused at this suggestion.

"I don't think I will, actually."

"You're just going to keep me here, for the rest of my life?"

"That's my current plan, yes."

Christine shook her head in disgust and marched to the door. "I'm leaving."

"Go right ahead. However, I have your lover locked in the house and men are on their way to collect your daughter. So if you don't care what happens to them, leave."

Christine turned and stared at him in horror. "Erik is here? And Dominique?"

"Dominique? What a sweet name. Yes, she should be arriving shortly. I very much look forward to meeting her. And as for… Erik? He is locked up and will not be freed. In fact, I am thinking about informing the police of his presence."

"You bastard!" Christine spat. Vincent lifted his eyebrow.

"I think my mother would have objected to that. Anyway, I will have someone escort you to your room."

"Let me see him," Christine demanded.

"I don't think so. However, if you choose to remain here and be sensible, I may allow you to see him and perhaps your daughter. But I will have to consider."

"Let me see him," she repeated, more softly.

Vincent eyed her and then sighed. "Not yet. First you should rest. You may not be aware but it's very late and frankly, I'm tired. I will have someone take you to your room and then, in the morning, you may be allowed a brief meeting with him."

Christine leant against a wall, holding her head in her hands. Erik, Dominique… both were in danger because of her. A cry welled up in her throat and escaped before she could stop herself. She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying to stop the sobs.

"Don't do this… don't take them away from me, please…" she begged. Pride had no place here. No dignity, nothing. Vincent sneered and called for a manservant.

"Take Miss Daae to the guestroom. And be sure to lock the door."

* * *

Dominique wasn't happy. The bad man had hit Uncle Thomas. He was a bad man. And she didn't like this carriage. It wasn't as nice as Mama's carriage. She glared sulkily at the man who had taken her. He was playing cards with his companion. He caught her eye and smirked before putting a card down. Dominique folded her arms crossly. "Want to go home."

"Shut up, you little brat," the bad man told her. Dominique stared at him. He wasn't allowed to say that! Mama always said that you weren't supposed to say things like that, it was rude! She looked at him sternly.

"Bad. You're bad." she told him. The men started to laugh and Dominique frowned. She didn't like being laughed at by these men.

"Want Mama and Papa," she said sulkily.

"Well, that's where you're going. You're going to see them," the second man said.

Dominique stared at him. "See Mama and Papa?"

"Yeah. Now shut up," the bad man said, playing another card. Dominique fell silent. If she was going to see Mama and Papa, she would be quiet.

* * *

Christine slept fitfully and woke only a few hours later. She went to the door and tried the handle. Locked. She started to bang the door with her fist.

"Let me out! Somebody let me out!"

No reply. Christine growled and kicked the door sharply. This did nothing except hurt her foot, which did nothing to improve her mood. She sat at a desk and tried to figure out what to do. She didn't know what she _could_ do. She had to find out what was going on first. This Vincent… he was different from William. He hadn't planned this out. He had her but he didn't seem to know what to do with her now that she was here. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

A couple of hours later, the door swung open. One of the servants said, "The Viscount has requested your presence."

"Really? Well, how can I possibly resist that invitation?" Christine muttered sarcastically. The servant didn't speak and she followed him to the room where she had woken the previous night. Vincent was sat at the desk but stood as she entered.

"I trust you are well rested?"

"Hardly," Christine said sharply.

"Never mind," Vincent said airily. Christine folded her arms.

"Where is Erik?"

"Safe, for now. He and your daughter are here."

"Dominique! Where is she? Take me to them!"

"I hardly think you're in a position to order me about, Miss Daae," Vincent said warningly. Christine stared at him coldly.

"I hardly think you're in a position to keep me from my fiancé and child. Why not add that to the list of imprisonment, kidnapping and blackmail that I intend to give the police?"

Vincent stared at her for a moment. Christine wandered anxiously if she had overstepped the mark. But to her surprise he simply started to laugh.

"You have spirit! I can see why my brother was so taken with you. You have fire, Miss Daae. Along with your other more… obvious attributes."

His eyes wandered again and Christine felt her skin crawl. Were all Viscounts, she wondered, this foul? Or only ones that she had the misfortune to meet? She stood her ground and said, "Take me to Erik and Dominique."

"Very well, very well," he said, still chuckling. Christine felt a strange urge to slap him. How she had changed, she realised. When faced with William she had felt nothing but horror and fear. This man however, only a few years older than herself and clearly younger than his brother, simply irritated her and she found herself wanting to shake him.

He led her through corridors, moving down through the house. Christine said, "Are you telling me that you have locked my fiancé and my young daughter in a cold, damp cellar?"

"Yes."

Christine ground her teeth. If either of them were ill…

An armed guard stood outside the door to the cellar. Vincent waved him aside and unlocked the door. Christine moved past him into the cold room. She shivered. It was _freezing_ down here!

"Erik? Dominique?" she called quietly. There was no reply and then she heard Erik's voice.

"Christine? Is that you?"

"Erik!" she cried and moved forward. Erik moved from the shadows into the meagre light of the doorway. His mask was gone and the stump of his right hand was on display. Christine stared at him. "You are alright?" she asked. He nodded and glanced over his shoulder.

"Dominique? Mama is here."

Christine stared as the little figure of her daughter appeared, rubbing her sleepy eyes. "Hello Mama."

"Dominique!" Christine said, barely able to believe her eyes. Dominique smiled brightly. Christine cried out and swept her daughter up and then reached for Erik, pulling them both into an embrace. Erik held her tightly.

"It's alright, Christine… we're safe…"

"No. We're not." Christine whispered. She glanced over at the doorway, where Vincent stood.

He said, in perfectly calm voice, "Miss Daae is right. None of you are safe."

"Who is that?" Erik asked Christine.

"Vincent de Martinez. William's brother."

Erik stared over at him. Dominique wriggled free of her mother's grasp and marched over to look at the strange man. Vincent looked down at her, not sure what to do. Dominique eyed him. "Who you?"

"The Viscount Vincent de Martinez."

"Oh." She looked him up and down and then said frankly, " Bad man."

"What?"

"Bad man. Don't like it here," she told him plainly. Christine felt her heart pound and darted forward to pull her away. But Vincent had already crouched down and taken Dominique's hand.

"You think I am a bad man?"

"Yes," Dominique said.

Vincent chuckled and turned her around gently to face her parents. "Do you see that man, Dominique?"

"Papa."

"Yes, your Papa. He's a bad man too."

"No. Papa good," Dominique said.

Vincent laughed again and whispered, "Your papa killed people. Do you know what that means, Dominique?" Dominique shook her head. Christine felt her breath shudder as Vincent said, "It means that he hurt them. He hurt them very badly. So badly they go to sleep and _never_ _wake up_."

She didn't understand. Of course you woke up. That's what you do. First you go to sleep and then you wake up. She didn't like this man but he held her arm too strongly. "Papa good." she said, although she sounded a little less certain this time. Christine moved forwards.

"Dominique, don't listen to him!"

"Your papa killed my brother, Dominique. That makes him a very bad man."

"No, Little One!" Christine cried out. Vincent pulled Dominique back slightly, away from her parents.

Dominique felt upset. She didn't like this man! He was making Mama sad! But she found that she couldn't move away. He continued to whisper in her ear.

"What do you think, Dominique? Do you want to stay with that bad man?" he asked, sneering at Christine and Erik. Erik stepped forward.

"Let her go."

"Let her decide that. Do you want to stay with the bad man, Dominique? Or do you want to come and play upstairs and be warm and happy and safe?"

"Stop it! She's only a child, don't say those things!" Christine cried.

Dominique didn't like this. She didn't like this man, and she didn't like Mama being upset and she didn't like Papa being angry. She started to cry and the man stroked her hair. "Don't cry, Dominique. I'm going to take you upstairs, and you can have something nice to eat."

"No! You can't take her!" Christine shouted. She held out her arms for her daughter and Dominique moved forward.

But she was tugged back by the Viscount who lifted her and, ignoring the wriggling, sobbing child said, "Isn't this an interesting situation, Miss Daae?"

Christine stared at him and Erik moved forward. "Release my daughter, before you strongly regret making the decision to bring us here."

Vincent didn't look particularly worried. He simply said, "I'm not going to make the decision. Miss Daae is. Dominique or the Phantom. You may leave with one, and I shall not bother you again."

Christine felt her heart sink. "What?"

"You heard, Miss Daae. Choose one."

"I… I can't… I can't choose between my daughter and my fiancé!"

"Well that's a pity. Because if you don't choose, I'll simply throw you out, have him killed and raise Dominique as my own daughter," Vincent said coldly. Christine stared at him.

"Please, don't do this."

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't," Vincent said. No longer was he simply an irritating fool, someone who would just grate on her nerves. Somehow he had become dangerous. Christine didn't know when or how, but she knew that he was. "I'm waiting, Miss Daae. Make your choice," Vincent said finally. Christine looked from him to Erik, to Dominique. Erik touched her cheek.

"Take her, Christine. Take her and leave."

"I'm sorry, Erik…" she whispered, her voice breaking as tears welled up. Erik shook his head.

"Take her now. Now!"

Christine fell towards Dominique, snatching her from the Viscount. The Viscount laughed harshly and pushed her out, slamming the cellar door closed behind him. The last thing Christine saw was the still figure of Erik standing in the shadows, his face distorted with pain.

It was then that she made a decision. Some might have thought it brave, other stupid, others insane. But Christine didn't know about any of that. She just knew that is was what she had to do. "Wait," she whispered. The Viscount stopped and looked at her.

How funny, that history would repeat itself, she thought. But she wasn't standing on a stage, surrounded by dancers and singers. She stood in a narrow corridor, holding her daughter and looking at the brother of the man who had almost destroyed her. "I'll give _you_ a choice."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Let Erik and Dominique leave and I will stay."

He stared at her. "What?"

"Let them leave, and promise not to bother them again, and I will stay here with you. I'll give you anything you want. If you let them go." Vincent seemed thoroughly confused.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because they mean more to me than my own life. If you had an ounce of compassion, you'd understand that," Christine spat.

Vincent started to laugh. Christine stared at him. He laughed hard and wiped his eyes. "Miss Daae, do you really think that I am a fool?"

"I think you're a man who knows a bargain."

"If I let that monster go, he will kill me. I'm well aware of that. So why should I release him?"

Christine looked at him and then smiled slightly. "Because if you do, I will give you _everything_. And I know that tempts you."

His eyes wandered again. Christine didn't move. Men could be so weak. Eventually he met her eyes again. "I will have someone escort him and your daughter to the city boundaries. If I find him in the city again, he will be killed. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly so," Christine said calmly. She looked down at Dominique and knelt to look her in the face.

"Dominique, my darling, you and Papa are going home."

"Mama come?"

Christine stroked her soft hair and sighed.

"No, Little One. Mama is going to stay here." Dominique blinked, confused. That didn't make sense. Why would Mama stay with the bad man? But Mama had already stood and was speaking crossly with the bad man.

* * *

He wasn't allowed to see her. He and Dominique were thrust into a carriage and driven to the edge of the city where they were unceremoniously thrown out. He didn't catch a glimpse of her.

Erik looked down as Dominique tugged his hand. "Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Want Mama."

"I know you do. But we can't see her yet," Erik said.

* * *

Christine sat in her room, staring out of the window. It was starting to rain. The door opened and Vincent looked at her. She didn't move from her seat on the windowsill.

"They are free."

She didn't reply. Vincent looked at her and said, "My brother-"

"You brother was a cruel, wretched bastard and you are an insignificant worm. I loathe you with every part of me and you will _never_ touch me without my consent!" Christine spat, seething with anger. Vincent merely looked at her.

"I don't believe I ever needed to ask for your consent, Christine."

No more 'Miss Daae'. Now it was Christine. She turned away to look out of the window. Vincent considered her. He had to admit, his brother had good taste. He himself had known a great many women, more than William. He was far more relaxed than his brother had been. William had always been one for rules, for conduct.

But this woman had reduced him to insanity. Vincent had witnessed his brother's descent into madness. How he would return from the Opera House in a furious temper, how he would return the next day with an air of determination, how he would be smug and irate, how he had returned after Masquerade Ball with that delicate mask. How he would pour over the mask for hours, simply thinking. How he wasted so much money searching for a chorus girl.

Vincent could not imagine what sort of woman could reduce a man of that stature to the wreck that William had become. But he was close to understanding, simply by being in the same room as her. He looked at her closely, but she kept her gaze on the black clouds.

"Do you know what I want from you, Christine?"

"You want what all men with a few coins want," she replied coldly. Vincent didn't smile.

"I will give you tonight. I will let you be alone tonight, if you do one thing for me."

She turned her gaze to him. A man could drown in those eyes, Vincent thought. "What do you want?" she asked.

"I want you to sing. I don't care what. I just want to hear the voice that destroyed my brother."

She turned and looked out of the window again. For some time she remained silent. And then her lips parted.

_You were once my one companion_

_You were all that mattered_

_You were once my friend and lover_

_Then my world was shattered_

_Wishing you were somehow here again_

_Wishing you were somehow near_

_Sometimes it seemed_

_If I dreamed_

_Somehow you would be here_

_Wishing I could hear your voice again_

_Knowing that I never would_

_Dreaming of you helped me to do_

_All that you dreamed I could_

It was a simple song. One she had written when she was at the Opera Populaire, when she believed Erik was dead, when she had been pregnant with Dominique. She closed her eyes and sighed slightly.

Vincent listened and it was then that he knew. He knew why she had enraptured William. That _voice_… it was perfect. Pure, with a wonderfully sweet clarity, the kind of sound that angels would make.

"Is that enough? You say that I destroyed your brother. And now you have destroyed me. Is that enough?" she asked quietly.

"It will be enough tomorrow night," he told her sharply, turning and shutting the door behind him. Christine stared after him and then looked back out of the window.

* * *

Vincent paced his study, the fire casting a flickering light across the room.

"My god, William. I can understand now," he murmured. A glass of whiskey stood on the table and he swallowed it whole. He gave a slight shudder as the liquid burned its way down to his stomach.

He burned for her. He wanted to go to her and take her without hesitation. He wanted to achieve what his brother never could.

But he would wait. He would for tomorrow night. And then he would claim her as his own. Vincent smirked as he sat down by the fire.

"What do you think of that, William? It looks like I'm going to do what you couldn't," he said to the fire. It simply flickered in reply.

**A/n: I know, it's taken a while. But here it is! And I'll try and get staretd on the next chapter soon. On the positive side, my head hasn't exploded due to school yet! Lol. Please leave a review and tell me what you think.**


	15. Part Fifteen

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Chapter Fifteen**

What is it that makes men so very different? Christine wondered.

She had known, in her time, different kinds of men. She had known good men. Erik, Thomas, Monsieur Reyer.

And she had known bad men. The De Martinez's, to be precise. She had never known anyone to be so… cold. Christine wondered what had happened to make them that way. Money? Erik had money, but he wasn't like that. The simple knowledge that you were born to a different family? Maybe…

She sat near the window sill. It was the next morning. The rain continued to pound on the windows, the sky a depressing dull shade of grey. The warmth of the rain clouded the window. Christine trailed her finger through the mist, leaving a clear streak to the wet world beyond. Christine sighed and the streak disappeared.

There was a knock at the door and a girl came in, one of the servants. Christine glanced over and the servant curtsied. "The Viscount requests your presence for breakfast," she said quietly. Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Please tell the Viscount he will have to drag me downstairs and tie me to the table, before I dine with him," she said calmly.

The girl looked horrified. "You want me to tell him that?"

"Yes please," Christine replied curtly, turning her eyes back to the window.

* * *

When the girl relayed the message to the Viscount, his first reaction was to laugh. But it wouldn't do to show weakness. Instead he got to his feet. "Is that really what she said?"

"Yes, Viscount."

"Well… please prepare a tray. I will take it to her. No need to tie her to the table, is there now?"

* * *

Christine ground her teeth when the door opened again. "I said I'm not going to-" she began, turning to look at the door. But she bit her tongue sharply when she saw the Viscount standing in the doorway. He smirked.

"I received your message."

"Did you understand it?" she asked sweetly. His smirk grew in size.

"Yes. But I've never been one to comply with the wants of others."

"A virtue you shared with your brother."

It was a dangerous thing to say but Vincent held his tongue. He merely watched as she got to her feet, straightening her clothing. Her thick, dark hair fell around her face, the light catching glints in it. Her porcelain face was calm, but the fury that lay beneath the surface allowed a powerful sense of character across her features. The women Vincent had previously known had all been simple, pretty girls, good for only one thing. But Christine… she was stunning. The combination of her beauty, her mind and her voice could stop a man's heart beating with a single glance.

"I've brought you some breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

"I hardly believe that, Christine. You haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon," Vincent said, placing the tray on the table. Christine looked at it and then lifted her eyes to his.

"How do I know that it is safe to eat?" she asked.

"Why would I poison you, Christine? What could I possibly gain from that?" Vincent pointed out.

Christine looked back down at the food. Fruit, some bread, cheese, a cup of hot tea. She reached for an apple and returned to her seat on the windowsill. She slowly bit into the apple and chewed without looking at him again. Vincent also took an apple and leant against the bedpost, watching her as he ate it. She kept her eyes on the fruit as she ate. When the apple was finished she went to the table and placed the core on the plate.

"Nothing else?" the Viscount asked. She shook her head. "Bread, cheese-"

"Pomegranate seeds?"

He couldn't help laughing. Christine lifted the teacup to her lips and sipped it. Vincent smiled, still watching her. "You're a fascinating woman, Christine. I've never met anyone quite like you."

"You mean someone who doesn't instantly throw themselves at your feet when they meet you?" Christine asked. Vincent smiled again.

"That as well. Usually women are won over easily by a little money."

"Only the type of women you know. Usually men are won over by a glance and smile," Christine replied. Vincent lifted his eyebrows,

"Also true. The main weakness of men is a pretty face."

"It was your brother's," Christine commented quietly, almost to herself, her eyes fixed on her tea.

Vincent considered her. "My brother was a fine man. All men make bad choices."

"And you made yours last night." Christine said.

"I don't think that's true. It seems most advantageous from where I stand. And I haven't had any complaints before," Vincent told her.

Christine laughed mirthlessly. "My god, you are one of the most arrogant men I've ever met!"

"Am I now?"

"Well, you're not quite as bad as your brother, in that respect. But there are some family qualities that one can recognize," Christine said harshly.

Vincent stepped forward and Christine turned away. His hand shot out and turned her around, grasping her by the shoulders. "I am a reasonable man, Christine. But I have my limits. I _strongly_ recommend that you watch your tongue. And that you don't turn your back to me again. Do you understand?" he said, lowering his face to look directly into hers.

Christine looked back, calmly. "Understood. I won't turn my back again."

"Good," he said, straightening, his hands still on her shoulders.

Christine said quickly, "But may I also offer you some advice?"

"If you wish," he said, half curious, half amused.

Christine smiled and said, "I won't turn my back. And you should keep your hand at the level of your eyes."

* * *

Vincent offered to show Christine the house, and to his surprise, she accepted. She walked with him in silence as he pointed out the more interesting, and historically significant pieces of work in the house. As they reached the staircase, Christine froze.

At the top of the stairs, looking down imposingly onto the grand entrance hall, was an enormous portrait of William de Martinez.

Vincent stopped and looked from the picture to the woman beside him. Her face was slightly pale, her brow twisted into a frown as her eyes flicked over the handsome face.

"A good likeness, don't you think?" he commented. Christine blinked and turned away from the picture.

"I don't remember. It has been some years."

He did not need to know of the nightmares she had suffered. That face sneering, coming at her, standing over the broken, bleeding body of Erik. Christine had worked hard over the years to become strong. A moment of weakness and Vincent could destroy her.

His hand touched her shoulder again and she jumped, startled at being broken out of her thoughts. He looked at her in surprise and she shook her head. Vincent looked up at the portrait again before leading her to another room. It was a library. On a writing desk sat Christine's trinket box. Vincent opened it and took out the objects inside.

"Some unusual pieces. I enjoyed looking through them. Especially this piece," he held up the white fragment of porcelain mask.

Christine looked at it and said quietly, "It's only a memory."

"You enjoyed your life at the Opera Populaire?"

"Of course."

"Would you like to go back?"

That surprised her. She looked at him. "Go back?"

"I see no reason why you shouldn't see it one last time."

"What do you mean?" she said, puzzled.

Vincent opened a drawer and took out a diamond ring. He took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. She stared at it. "I… what…"

"You told me that I could have everything, Christine. And that's what I intend to take," Vincent said calmly. She looked from the ring to him.

"But… I thought that you just wanted…"

"It was at first. But I've decided that both would be far more satisfactory. We will be married in exactly two week's time. I've already begun arrangements. Now, would you like to see the Opera House one last time?"

Christine couldn't speak. She couldn't move, or even think. He was going to marry her. She would be bound to him forever. He was going to marry her.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked sharply. She blinked and looked up at him.

"No…"

"As soon as we are married, we'll leave for London."

"For how long?"

"I haven't yet decided. It's a pleasant enough country, England, so it could be some time. Anyway, go and get your outdoor things on and we'll go to the Opera Populaire."

She turned and walked from the room, dazed. When she reached her room she sank into a chair, shaking. This wasn't what was supposed to happen! She couldn't _marry_ him.

"Erik…" she whispered, burying her face in her hands.

A servant arrived with a cloak and helped her to put it on. She thanked the girl quietly and once the servant had left, Christine crossed to the dress she had worn the previous day. Tucked into the pocket was the engagement ring from Erik. Christine laced it onto a chain and tied it around her neck, hiding it beneath the collar of her dress.

* * *

When the Viscount de Martinez entered the Opera House, many of the performers were surprised. They knew, of course, who he was. But he rarely visited the Opera.

What they were more surprised about was the fact that when he entered the theatre, his arm was around Christine Daae. On her left ring finger was a large diamond.

André and Firmin rushed out to greet the pair, but stopped in their tracks at the sight of Christine. Vincent smiled at them.

"Gentleman, may I introduce my new fiancée, Christine Daae? I believe you are acquainted."

"Yes. We are," Firmin said, staring at Christine. She kept her eyes on the floor and didn't speak.

Vincent said cheerfully, "Miss Daae and I are to be married in two weeks and she wished to see the Opera Populaire before we left for England."

"England?"

"Yes, I have land there. We may stay there for some time," Vincent explained, taking Christine's hand in his own. It lay in his hand, limp. She refused to play along, preferring to remain silent.

Firmin and André led the couple into the theatre. Rehearsal was almost finished. Carlotta and Piangi weren't there, but many of the ballet girls were, as well as Monsieur Reyer and the Giry's. Meg gasped at the sight of her friend.

"Christine!" her eyes settled on the Viscount and she frowned. Madame Giry stared from one to the other.

Vincent inquired, "What opera is being performed?"

"Hannibal, Viscount. It will be a fine show," Firmin said. Monsieur Reyer shook the Viscount's hand and then turned to Christine.

"Miss Daae… we weren't expecting you."

"Christine and I are to be married in two weeks," Vincent said smugly. Meg's jaw dropped and she turned to her friend.

"But what about…" Christine looked briefly at her friend and then turned her face away.

Madame Giry asked politely, "When did you become engaged?"

"This morning. It was all rather sudden, wasn't it, my dear?" Vincent said, looking down at Christine.

He squeezed her hand warningly and she lifted her head and said quietly, "Yes. It was."

"Come, Viscount, allow me to show you the score," Monsieur Reyer said, hoping to allow Christine some time to talk to Madame Giry. But Vincent pulled her after him. Christine glanced quickly over her shoulder at Madame Giry who was watching her carefully. Christine opened her mouth and a helpless look came over her face. She closed her mouth again and turned back to Monsieur Reyer.

Madame Giry looked at Meg, who shrugged, confused at her friend's behaviour. Madame Giry approached the Viscount, "Monsieur Viscount, would I able to speak to Miss Daae for a moment in private?"

"Surely anything you want to say to my fiancée can be said in front of me, Madame Giry," Vincent said in a pleasant tone. Christine fixed her eyes on the floor, her hand still grasped in his. Madame Giry considered her for a moment. Christine couldn't meet her gaze.

"Actually, Viscount, I wanted to inquire about how long you have known each other."

"Not too long."

"And if Christine's daughter will be joining you?"

Christine jumped and the Viscount threw her a warning glance. "My fiancée has no daughter, Madame Giry. Do you, Christine?" Christine met Madame Giry's eyes. The ballet mistress saw tears welling up in her eyes but Christine blinked them back.

"I… I…"

"Say it, Christine," Vincent said calmly, but dangerously. Christine took a deep breath and lifted her eyes up to the rafters, as if praying for the strength.

"I have… I have no daughter."

Madame Giry could have struck the Viscount at that moment. The smug look that covered his face was almost unbearable.

Meg stepped forward, "Christine, why are you-?"

"I think we've been here long enough," Vincent said harshly, turning and pulling Christine after him. Christine stared back at them and that same, helpless, despairing look crossed her face before the door closed behind her.

* * *

In the carriage, returning to the estate, Christine kept her eyes fixed on her hands, apologizing over and over to Dominique for denying her.

Vincent watched her, a superior smile on his face. She was breaking. He knew that she would. That had been the problem with William. He thought that everything could be solved with violence and bribes. Sometimes you needed to go a little deeper than that, to truly cut into the soul. Bruises and cuts would heal. Wounds to the heart would not.

Christine looked out of the window. The rain had eased for a while, but the skies were still overhung with dark grey clouds. Vincent said, "I have never been a great fan of opera. I have attended, on several occasions, but it has never held great interest for me."

Christine couldn't reply. She gazed off into space, not paying attention to anything, unable to think or speak. Vincent reached across and covered her hand with his. She didn't move, still staring at nothing. Eventually she said, in a tight, constricted voice, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Vincent sat back, considering her, rubbing his chin as he considered. Her dark eyes met his pale blue ones. He lifted an eyebrow and said, "You know why."

"No. I don't. It might be because of your brother, or the fact that you like to conquer people. Or perhaps you just enjoy seeing me in misery," Christine said.

"I suppose it's all of those. But mostly because I want to do what William never could. He was outwitted by a chorus girl and a phantom. I rather think that I could do better."

"You've torn my life apart for the sake of sibling rivalry?" Christine said, in disbelief.

Vincent looked entertained. "I suppose so."

"My god…" she fell back in her chair, pressing one hand to her head, as though she had a headache.

Vincent looked unconcerned. "And thus far I think I'm doing a little better than him, wouldn't you say?"

She lifted her face to look at him and he saw fire burning in her eyes. "You're despicable. Between you and your brother I've never met two men who are more deserving of death."

"I assure you, I intend to live a long, happy life with my beloved wife," Vincent smirked.

Christine ground her teeth and spat, "I would rather take my own life than be yours."

"Don't be so dramatic. It really doesn't suit you, my dear." Vincent said dismissively. "And besides, I don't intend to let you out of my sight long enough for you kill yourself. The rest of the day, I shall stay by your side. And tonight, after dinner, a servant shall stay with you whilst you prepare for bed. After that… well, you're an intelligent girl. I'm sure you can figure it out."

Christine felt her skin crawl at the thought of him touching her and clenched her fist. The diamond scraped against the soft skin of her hand but she ignored it. Instead she said in a forcedly calm voice, "You will have to drag me, kicking and screaming, to the bed before I let you touch me."

"Really? I look forward to it," Vincent smiled. Christine turned her face away in disgust.

Vincent could have laughed out loud, but forced himself not to. He was very much enjoying himself. Christine was turning out to be a fascinating young woman, not like anyone he had ever met before. Yes, he was going to enjoy her _very_ much.

* * *

As promised, Vincent spent the rest of the day with Christine. Most of this time was spent in the library. Her new tactic was to simply not speak, glaring at him instead, slumping in her chair, arms crossed across her chest. Vincent found this rather entertaining, trying to bait her into saying something. And he succeeded only by using his very last tactic. He went to a drawer and drew out the metal hand Erik had designed. Christine sat up, gripping the arms of the chair tightly.

"It's most unusual. Did he make it himself?"

"Give it to me!" Christine demanded.

Vincent laughed. "I knew I could make you talk!"

She reached for the hand but Vincent moved away, examining it. "It's very clever. I knew he was talented musically, but I wasn't aware of his other talents."

"Let me have it," Christine said, getting to her feet. _Don't make me beg_, she thought desperately.

Vincent considered her for a moment and then said, "What would you do with it? After all… it doesn't belong to anyone important. Does it?"

"Don't…" Christine whispered. Vincent snorted.

"It belongs to no one. So it doesn't matter what happens to it."

"Don't… god, don't…"

"Who does it belong to, Christine?" Vincent said calmly.

Christine closed her eyes and whispered, "No one. It doesn't belong to anyone."

"Good," he placed the hand back in the drawer and locked it. Christine stared at the drawer and Vincent stepped towards her.

"It wasn't that hard now, was it?" His hand brushed her shoulder and she flinched away, meeting his eyes, glaring furiously.

"Don't touch me."

"Not your choice, I'm afraid. And, might I add, even if by some miracle, you did escape, you'd find it quite impossible to find your way back home. I have men posted around the outskirts of the city, and several watching your home. In fact, I'll be finding out any minute the whereabouts of Erik and Dominique. And if you found a way to join them I'd know at once and they would both be killed."

Christine felt anger rising in her and let out a furious cry, kicking at a chair. Vincent smiled in amusement. "I do things properly, Christine. I don't let myself become to emotional or let my anger take over. A problem William could never overcome."

"I realized that when he beat me," Christine spat. Vincent looked surprised.

"He hit you? I didn't know that."

"When I said no, he hit me until I could barely walk," Christine said harshly.

Vincent shrugged, unconcerned. "Oh well. I suppose he wasn't used to being refused."

Christine looked at him and then sat on the edge of the sofa, rubbing her forehead, despair starting to fill her. Vincent sat beside her and said calmly, "I won't strike you, Christine. I will treat you as a good husband would treat his wife. All you have to do is stay faithful to your side of our bargain. You give me everything and I will be perfectly pleasant."

Christine didn't reply. Her face was buried in her hands, fatigue overwhelming her. Vincent placed a hand on her head, stroking the soft curls. "It won't be so bad. You'll like England. All you have to do is forget everything that happened before. It's not too much to ask. You just need to forget," he said quietly, pressing his mouth to her hair, kissing her head.

Christine didn't flinch away. She kept her head bowed. Vincent smiled at her inner turmoil. They were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in," Vincent said, standing. A manservant entered, dressed in travelling clothes. "Ah, James. You have news?"

"The Phantom and the child have returned to their home. They plan to stay there," James said. Christine looked up quickly. Vincent nodded.

"Good work. Keep men posted nearby. We don't want them slipping away without our knowledge. Thank you, James. You may leave."

"Thank you, Viscount." He bowed and left.

Christine stared at the closed door and murmured a silent prayer, thanking God for the safety of Erik and Dominique. Vincent watched her and said quietly, "There. Now everything is as it should be. They will be safe as long as you aren't with them." She didn't reply, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. Vincent reached out and turned her face towards him.

But before he could kiss her she jerked back, eyes open, and whispered, "Music."

"What?"

"My music… will I still be able to play it?" she asked. Vincent considered.

"I don't see any reason why you shouldn't. But only when I am with you."

That was some small comfort, she supposed. Music was the one thing of Erik's he couldn't take from her. The weight of the ring around her neck was comforting, but surely he would find it eventually. Christine rose to her feet and went to look out of the window. It was raining again and it was dark outside, despite only being late afternoon.

She wanted to be out there. She wanted to stand in the rain, let it wash over her, rinsing away the filth and disgust. She wanted to scream to the skies until her voice was hoarse. She never wanted to see sunlight again. She wanted it to rain all the time, for the rest of her life.

"Do you hate me, Christine?" he whispered in her ear. A roll of thunder sounded. Christine swallowed hard. There had been thunder that first night she and Erik had…

"Yes." Lightning flashed and a few moments later thunder sounded again.

Vincent murmured in her ear, "Hate can turn to love, you know."

"I will _never_ love you," she whispered fiercely. Vincent seemed amused as his hand ran up and down her arm.

"We shall see. It's really not so hard to love someone, I'm sure. We can make each other happy."

"There is only one man who could make me happy, and you are not him," Christine said quietly, her eyes fixed on the view from the window.

Vincent sighed, his breath ruffling her curls slightly. "You will not speak of him again, Christine. He does not belong in your life anymore. I am the only man in your life from now onwards. Do you understand?" He waited for her to reply. She didn't and he said again, "Do you understand?"

"…Yes. I understand."

"Good. Now, it's almost time for dinner."

* * *

After dinner, Christine was escorted to her bedroom by a servant. It was a woman, of about forty years who looked at her pityingly. Christine ignored her look and said, "Please leave me."

"I cannot, Madame. I have been ordered to stay with you," the woman said.

Christine sighed and looked at her for a moment. "What is your name?"

"Nathalie, Madame."

"Nathalie… if you can't leave, could you just… turn around? Just for a moment." Hesitantly the woman turned. Christine slipped the ring off her necklace and tucked it inside a handkerchief, stuffing it under the bed. "It's fine. You can turn again."

Nathalie seemed rather bewildered by her odd behaviour but didn't comment, helping her to undress. Christine slipped on a nightgown and went to the bathroom. Apparently Nathalie felt she was safe to be alone in the bathroom, for she didn't follow. Christine looked at herself in the mirror before washing her face. When she emerged, Nathalie was still there. Christine sat at the dressing table, staring at her reflection. How she had changed, she thought, as Nathalie brushed out her long hair. She seemed to have grown older in the last day.

The door opened and Vincent entered. Christine looked at his reflection in the mirror. He beckoned for Nathalie and they stepped into the corridor, the door closing behind the. Christine reached for one of the hairbrushes and forced it with all of her strength. With a satisfying _crack_ the handle snapped off, leaving a jagged, splintered edge. Christine hurried to the bed and slipped it under the pillow, throwing the head under the bed before rushing back to her seat, picking up another hairbrush and starting to brush it through her thick hair. A moment later the door opened again and the Viscount came in.

Christine kept her eyes lowered as she brushed her hair. But Vincent took the brush from her and started to comb it through her hair. Christine let her hands fall to her lap, thinking furiously.

The last possible moment. That was when she must strike, when he was vulnerable. She couldn't possibly kill him, not with a splintered brush handle, but she could give herself time to escape. She didn't know where she would go or what she would do, but she had to get away from here first.

Vincent placed the brush on the dressing table. Christine got to her feet and jumped as there was a bang. The window had flown open. Vincent turned but she walked past him to pull it shut. As she did so, she caught sight of something strange.

By the gate was a figure. Female, she was sure of that, cloaked against the unfriendly weather. Christine closed the window and drew the curtains shut, to block out the lightning. She was trembling, she realized. A mixture of fear and adrenaline. Vincent noticed and caught her hand. "There's no need to be afraid, Christine," he told her. Christine didn't reply, not meeting his eyes.

He dropped her hand and went to turn down the lamps. Christine watched his every move, wary of him. Vincent turned back to her. A flash of lightning illuminated the dimly lit room. Memories of that other night filled Christine's head. Lying in Erik's arms, the feel of his skin against her own, pressing her mouth to his face, feeling his hands running over her…

"You are beautiful, Christine," Vincent said, walking back to her. Christine didn't speak. She didn't trust herself enough to open her mouth. Vincent unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the floor, revealing a well muscled chest, strong and handsome. Christine averted her eyes and he chuckled.

"Shy? I wouldn't have expected that of you." She bit down on her tongue to stop herself making a comment. Vincent drew her close to him, the heat of his chest reaching her through the thin fabric of the nightgown. This particular piece of clothing had clearly been designed to draw attention rather than to cover up and she felt ashamed to be wearing it, although she had worn scantier clothing as a dancer at the Opera Populaire.

For the first time, Vincent kissed her. Christine frowned but didn't turn her head away. She had to be meek, had to let him touch her although she almost shuddered as his hands ran over her.

"I must say, Christine, you're acting very oddly. I expected more of a struggle. What was it you said earlier? Something about kicking and screaming… I'm a little disappointed," he commented.

Christine lifted her eyes to look him in the face and asked quietly, "Would you prefer me to fight you?"

"I almost would. You're being rather dull," he said, lifting his eyebrows. Christine snorted and stepped back from him, folding her arms across her chest.

"And you expect me to fully comply with your wishes?"

Vincent laughed. "That's more like it! I like you, Christine. You have so much spirit. It doesn't do for you to act solemnly." Christine glared at him and he drew her to him once again, kissing her with much more passion than before. And now she returned the kiss, almost pouring all of her seething hatred into the act. Vincent pulled her towards the bed, lying over her as his mouth moved down her neck. Christine couldn't stop her face twisting in disgust, but fortunately he didn't see. She lifted her arms up, reaching beneath her pillow for the wooden weapon. As she did so, her body arched against his and he moaned into her. Christine felt all of her hatred came rushing back as she wrapped her arms around his back, being careful not to let him feel the weapon.

Vincent murmured her name and he whispered, "Say _my_ name, Christine."

Christine parted her lips, her breathing ragged and harsh.

"_Erik_…"

And she stabbed down. Vincent cried out, rolling off of her. Christine stabbed again. Vincent threw her off, clutching the two wounds in agony. Christine looked around and saw an empty jug on the bedside table. She picked it up and smashed it over his head. Vincent blinked for a moment and fell forward onto the bed. Christine hastily checked for a pulse. He was still alive. She rolled him over and quickly tied blankets around his hands and feet before gagging him with a pillow case. It could be hours before anyone found him but she couldn't risk it. She pulled a cloak on over the nightgown and recovered her ring from under the bed. She threw the gaudy engagement ring from Vincent onto the bedside table before fishing a key from Vincent's trouser pocket, opening the door and hurrying out.

The servants were nowhere to be seen, for which she was thankful. She hurried to the library, went to the desk, and unlocked the drawer. She took out Erik's hand and the box before going back into the entrance hall. Christine pulled the front door open and started to run down the driveway to the front gate. The rain lashed at her head and she wrapped the cloak around her tightly, shivering.

Someone caught her arm and she cried out. Madame Giry pulled her along the street. "Madame!"

"Hurry, we must get away before someone sees us!" the ballet mistress told her.

* * *

Less than an hour later, Christine sat in Erik's old home, beneath the Opera House. Madame Giry handed her a cup of tea. "What happened, Christine?" she asked, sitting beside the girl. Christine took a deep breath and told her about the deal she had struck with the Viscount, and what had happened that night.

"He'll look for me. He'll go after Erik and Dominique. My god, what have I done?" Christine cried, burying her face in her hands. Madame Giry held her tightly.

"Don't be afraid, Christine. It will be alright."

"How? How can it _possibly_ be alright?" Christine wailed.

"Because Erik and Dominique are coming here."

Christine lifted her face and stared at her. "What?"

"They are on their way."

"No! No, they can't! The Viscount has men posted everywhere!" Christine cried. Marie smiled.

"All of the Viscount's men have been _mysteriously _taken ill."

"…What did you do?" Christine asked suspiciously. Marie looked surprised.

"Why do you think that I had anything to do with it?"

Marie had never been one to gloat. So she didn't particularly feel the need to inform Christine how she had sent most of her ballet girls out, each bearing a gift of wine for the men, a gift, they told the men, from their generous master.

Christine started to pace the room. "What are we to do, when they get here?"

"Run. I own a house in the south of France, Erik knows where. You can go there, the three of you, until this blows over."

"And if it doesn't blow over?" Christine asked. Marie sighed.

"Then you must keep running. It's not a good life."

"You know, Marie, I don't think I'd mind running. Just as long as I can have them near me…" Christine pondered. Marie smiled and stood.

"There are dry clothes through there. Go and change. It will be a few hours before they arrive," she said, gesturing towards the bedroom.

* * *

It was past midnight when Christine ceased her pacing, hearing movement. Marie had gone up to the Opera House, to find a carriage for them. Christine turned, searching for the source of the noise, and when the echoes reached her she recognized Dominique's happy babbling, just as a curtain was thrust aside and Erik appeared, the cheerful child in his arms. Dominique laughed airily. "Mama!"

Christine gave a cry and fell towards them, hugging them both as tightly as she could. Dominique didn't seem the least bothered. After all, it had only been a day since she'd seen her mother, although for Christine it seemed much longer. After a moment Erik put Dominique down and looked at Christine. His hand touched her cheek and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. She nodded and he asked, "How did you get away?"

"I stabbed him with a broken hairbrush and then hit him over the head with a jug."

He stared down at her and then smiled. Christine smiled too, realizing for the first time quite how ridiculous that was. Erik kissed her gently and whispered, "We'll be alright. We'll be safe."

"I know. As long as we're together," she replied.

Dominique tugged at her skirt and smiled. "Guess what!"

"What?" Christine said, lifting her daughter. Dominique laughed.

"Papa made moose!"

"Moose?" Christine inquired, looking at her daughter. She glanced at Erik, who looked worried and was signalling for Dominique to shush.

"What's a moose, Erik?" Christine asked suspiciously. Dominique giggled and pointed to a piece of rope curled on a surface nearby.

"Moose!"

Erik winced as Christine turned on him and shrieked, "You showed her how to make a _noose_!"

"Only a little one."

"_Erik_! She is _two years old_!" Christine screamed. Dominique looked rather affronted at the noise and tugged Christine's hair.

"Mama bad."

"If it helps, hers fell apart as soon as she tied it."

"No, that _doesn't_ help Erik, because you shouldn't be showing her how to make weapons of death!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Christine, you don't necessarily kill someone with a noose. You can just keep them unconscious for a few hours, or use it to drag things or…" his voice faded away at the glowering look on her face.

Dominique was highly entertained by this. Christine rolled her eyes and said, "You have a few things to learn about parenting, Erik. Lesson one – no deadly weapons."

Erik, looking rather abashed but determined to defend his parenting skills, said, "We did quite well. I managed to entertain her and feed her." Christine smiled and put Dominique down again.

She kissed Erik and said, "Marie will be back in a moment. She's got somewhere for us to go, a house in Southern France."

"I know."

"We can live there for as long as we want. We can start a new life, I can sell my old home and the land… we'll be fine."

There was a hint of regret in her tone and Erik said quietly, "You love that house, don't you?"

"Yes. It's where Dominique was born… Rosa and Thomas are both there…"

"Maybe we'll go back one day."

"Maybe," Christine said, sadly.

Marie appeared in the doorway and said quickly, "There's a carriage waiting. Erik, you will have to drive. I don't want to risk getting a driver, in case he talks."

"Very well, Marie," Erik said. They hurried up to the back of the Opera House, to an alley where a carriage was waiting. Christine quickly put Dominique inside, wrapping a blanket around her and turned to bid farewell to Marie. The ballet mistress kissed her quickly.

"Hurry. You must go."

"Thank you, so much," Christine whispered as Erik climbed onto the driver's seat, taking the reins.

Marie smiled and nodded. "You are welcome. I shall write soon."

"Say goodbye to Meg for me."

"I will. Now go!"

Christine climbed inside and closed the door. Dominique watched her from the bundled blanket, only her eyes and a tuft of dark hair showing.

"Mama?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Sing please."

Christine smiled and pulled the child onto her lap as the carriage set off at a fast pace.

_In sleep he sang to me…_

Dominique started to suck her thumb comfortably, listening to the sound of her mother's voice as the carriage sped over the cobbled streets, rain lashing down on the windows.

_In dreams he came…_

Christine wrapped her arms around Dominique as the storm raged on. Street lamps passed quickly, the houses rushing past, the crack of the reins sounding sharply.

_That voice which calls to me…_

Marie stood in the doorway to the Opera Populaire, as the carriage disappeared into the night. Meg came to her side and asked, "Will they be safe?"

"I hope so... I hope so," Marie replied, stroking her daughter's soft hair.

_And speaks my name…_

The sound of the horse's hooves on the streets sounded rhythmically. Dominique was soon asleep and Christine looked out of the window, up at the black sky.

_And do I dream again…_

Erik swerved the horses around a corner, heading for the edges of the city. It was hours before dawn, and by that time they would be far from Paris.

_For now I find…_

Christine glanced up at the figure in the driver's seat, the hood of the cloak drawn up over his head. As if he sensed her, his head turned slightly. A glimpse of a white mask, the flash of a green eye and then the face disappeared as he turned back to the road. Christine fell back in her seat, allowing sleep to wash over her.

_The Phantom of the Opera is there…_

No matter what else they did, wherever they went, whatever happened to them, they would stay together. And they would run to the ends of the earth if they had to. As long as they stayed together.

_Inside my mind_…

**A/N: As usual, thank you for the lovely reviews! Especially to _Le Fantom De La Opera_, simply because your reviews are so entertaining! I'm so glad I did decide to post this because you guys are just great. And especially the wonderful La Foamy for her marvellous beta-ing skills! **

**I'm thinking this is the last chapter, just because it seemed to end in a good place. But I think I'll do an epilogue, and then call it a day. Because I don't want it to be one of those stories that just keeps dragging on and on until everyone's sick of it. So one more post and that's all folks! Thank you for your lovely support. Love you guys SO much!**


	16. Epilogue

**The Phantom of the Opera**

**Epilogue**

The carriage moved steadily along an uneven country road. Christine watched the hills and lands pass, the letter still in her hand.

_He is dead. You are safe._

_Marie Giry_

She had never been one for long letters, but this bordered on ridiculous, Christine thought. The newspaper clipping inside explained things more thoroughly.

**DEATH OF VISCOUNT DE MARTINEZ**

**Vincent de Martinez died two days ago, of a fever. The Viscount was said to be suffering ill health for several years, as the result of a severe infection from numerous, unexplained wounds. The Viscount has no living family and will be laid to rest in the family crypt.**

Christine smiled to herself. Finally, after eight years, they could go home. She had grown to love the Giry House, but had sorely missed her own home. But now they were safe to return.

All four of them.

She ran a hand over her swollen belly and listened idly to the conversation that Erik and Dominique were having. Well, not so much a conversation as an argument. They were often arguing these days.

"But Papa, if you were to live under the Opera House for so long, you would be ill! People need sunlight," Dominique argued.

"I'll have you know I lived quite comfortably under there. Don't you remember going there?"

"No. I don't think I ever did," Dominique said. Erik looked to his wife and she laughed.

"She was two years old and only there for about five minutes. And you _were_ terribly pale from living there for so long."

"See, Papa?" Dominique said smugly.

Erik sighed and said simply, "Your mother never wanted you to be there in the first place. She was convinced that it wasn't safe." Christine was about to speak but smiled as she felt a movement in her stomach. Dominique fell across her father to press her hands to the fabric of the dress.

"She's kicking!" she said excitedly.

Christine laughed. "It might be a boy."

"No. I want a sister. It will be a girl," Dominique informed her mother.

Erik laughed, "I don't think it's really your choice, Dominique."

"Well, I think it will be."

She settled back into her seat. At eleven years old, she had grown from an adorable toddler to a sweet, but stubborn child. Dark brown hair, as curly as her mothers, fell around a pale face, set with extraordinarily green eyes. She looked at Erik and said, "Are we nearly there?"

"I expect so." He looked out of the window and then said, "Another couple of hours."

Dominique pulled a face. "That's _ages_!"

"It will pass quickly enough. Do you remember the house at all?"

"A little… not much. I remember the piano," Dominique said thoughtfully.

Rosa, who had been taking care of the house since their departure with the help of Thomas, had kept in contact with them over the years and was eagerly awaiting their return. Christine looked forward to seeing her friends again and turned to Erik, "You do realize that we are going to have to face all the gossip again."

"Well, we are respectable now. We're married," Erik said, kissing her hand.

Christine laughed and said, "I know. But we're going to have to make sure that everyone knows it, especially after that disaster the last time we had dinner with Thomas and Emily."

"Frankly, my darling, I couldn't care less what they think," Erik said cheerfully.

Dominique glanced at her mother, "Is Uncle Thomas coming to meet us?"

"I haven't the faintest idea, Little One. Maybe he, Emily, and the boys will come."

"I don't remember Andrew and Christopher. I remember Emily." Thomas had visited them on several occasions, at the Giry House, so Dominique was well acquainted with him, but had not meet the family for several years.

"They'll be getting quite old now. Let's see… Andrew would be sixteen and Christopher would be nearly twenty, I think," Christine said, thoughtfully.

Dominique grumbled, "They don't sound much fun. Too old."

"You used to adore the boys. You played with them all the time," Christine said.

Dominique said loftily, "Well, I'm rather more grown up now, Mama. I don't know if I want to play with them anymore." Christine tried to look serious but couldn't help smiling at her daughter. Dominique dug around in her bag and pulled out a puzzle box that Erik had made for her. The idea was to find the right combination of pictures to open it up. Inside was a surprise, but neither Christine nor Dominique knew what. Christine rather hoped that whatever it was, it hadn't been expiratory. Dominique had been working on it for several weeks.

Whilst she amused herself with the box, Erik said to Christine, "Do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine. Just a little tired. And large. I can't believe that I still have a month of pregnancy left!" she said, looking down at her bump. Erik smiled and ran his long-fingered hands over her stomach. Christine smiled. "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

"I don't mind. As long as it's healthy and you're alright," he said quietly.

Christine laughed and whispered, "I think I want a boy."

"Mama!" Dominique wailed.

Christine laughed at her and said, "Well, I do! I wanted a girl first, and I got one. Now I want a boy. Charles, after my father, perhaps."

"Charles is a good name," Erik agreed. Dominique glared at her parents.

"You can't call a girl Charles!"

"Well, that's fine. Because I'm going to call this boy Charles!"

Dominique turned irritably back to her box and Christine smiled at her husband. "I must look so terrible. I feel enormous."

"You look beautiful, as always," Erik assured her. Dominique rolled her eyes.

Christine kissed Erik and said quietly, "It's going to be wonderful. We can carry on with our music, run the lands, have a family… it'll be perfect. Everything we ever wanted."

He kissed her again and Dominique cleared her throat. Christine stuck her tongue out at her daughter and kissed Erik again. Dominique sighed and said in a singsong voice, "Kisses lots and lots and lots and…"

"I _knew_ we'd regret telling her that story," Erik mumbled, sitting back.

Dominique smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Papa."

He gave her a disgruntled look and she pulled a face. He rolled his eyes, and then a smirk crossed his lips. "It's going to be a boy."

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is."

"Mama!"

"Christine!"

Christine threw up her hands in despair. "You're as bad as each other!" Erik smiled and glanced sideways at his daughter.

"She started it."

"Erik!" Christine snapped and he held his hands up in surrender. Dominique giggled and returned to her puzzle box.

* * *

When the three of them climbed out of the carriage outside the front door, Christine looked around and knocked on the door. There was no reply. "Rosa?"

A voice called, "Around the back!"

The family moved around to the rear of the house. When they did so, they were greeted with shouts of joy and greeting. Christine laughed in delight to see the Peron family and rushed forward to greet them. "Thomas!"

"Christine, how was the journey?" he said, hugging her. She kissed his cheek.

"It was fine. Good weather all the way." She greeted Emily and then turned to the two youths standing nearby.

"Look at you both, you're so big! I can't believe it! Christopher, you're a proper adult now." She kissed the older boy's cheek and then Andrew's. "And you, Andrew, I barely recognised you!"

Christine turned and saw Dominique standing by Erik, a slight frown on her face, clutching her father's hand. She smiled at the girl and held out her hand. "Dominique, come and say hello."

Determined not to look shy, Dominique stepped forward. Thomas smiled down at her. "Hello Dominique. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," Dominique said politely. Emily smiled and kissed her.

"I don't suppose you remember me, do you Dominique?"

"I do, a little," Dominique assured her. Emily smiled.

"How old are you now?"

"Eleven. Nearly twelve," she said, and Emily turned to her sons.

"Come and say hello to Dominique. You do remember her, don't you?"

"I remember a two year old child, not a lovely girl like this," Christopher replied, smiling.

Dominique blushed, but seemed quite pleased. Andrew grinned at her. "Hello Dominique. I'll bet you don't remember us, do you?"

"No," she admitted and Andrew smiled.

"If it helps, I don't really remember you either." The two of them started to talk happily as Christine greeted Rosa, whilst Erik spoke with Thomas.

Rosa smiled, "Hello Christine."

"Rosa, it's so good to see you," Christine said, hugging her friend tightly.

"I've kept everything just as you left it, and Thomas has helped me in running the land. It's all fine," Rosa assured her.

Christine smiled. "I'm just so glad to be home."

They sat on the terrace, where Rosa had tea and food prepared. Erik helped Christine sit and placed a hand on her stomach.

"You're alright?"

"I'm fine, stop fussing!" she told him laughingly. Emily smiled.

"Let him. It'll stop him worrying."

"I'm pregnant, I'm not made of glass," Christine pointed out. Erik sighed.

"Fine, I'll stop. I just want to make sure that you and the baby both get through this safely."

"We will," Christine assured him. He didn't look particularly convinced.

For several hours they caught up with each other's news and gossip. Christopher, it emerged, was engaged to be married. Rosa herself was courting a man from the village. Emily and Thomas hadn't changed much at all. Andrew and Dominique were hunched over the puzzle box, trying to figure it out.

"It must be so odd to be home after so long," Emily commented. Christine nodded.

"A little. But mostly I'm just glad to be here again. I'm looking forward to just being happy here, with Erik, Dominique, and this one." She patted her stomach.

"Who is not a boy," Dominique put in.

"I _want_ a boy," Christine told her. Dominique looked up irritably.

"Well, I don't! I want a sister!"

"Well, I want a son, so that's hard luck!" Christine told her firmly. Erik smirked and Christine gave him a look. "You were just as bad on the way here. You two were squabbling like infants."

"We were simply having a difference of opinions," Erik said calmly.

Christine started to speak but laughed. "He's kicking again!"

"_She's_ kicking," Dominique corrected her mother, and went to feel it. She smiled and looked at Andrew. "Come and feel. She's kicking very hard."

Christine sat patiently whilst everybody pressed forward to feel the kicking baby. Emily smiled at her.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little. Bit I've still got a month before it's due, and I think I'm better prepared for it this time. I was terrified when I was having Dominique."

"I remember feeling the same way with Christopher." Emily agreed. Dominique had lost interest and had gone inside to look around the house with Andrew and Christopher. Rosa went to fetch more tea, leaving the four others to speak.

Thomas updated them both on the business side of the estate and then enquired about their plans for the future. Christine smiled. "It sounds as if you've been doing a fine job. I will be taking over the business side, once the baby is born."

"And you, Erik? What will you be doing?" Emily asked. Erik smiled slightly and Christine smiled up at him.

"I shall be travelling to Paris as soon as I know that Christine and the child are safe."

"Paris? What on earth for?" Thomas asked. Christine laughed.

"Erik has been busy for the past eight years. He's written an opera and is going to persuade the managers at the Opera Populaire to show it."

"An _opera_?" Thomas said, in surprise.

"_Don Juan Triumphant_. He's extremely proud of it." Christine smiled.

Erik lifted an eyebrow. "Eight years of work. Of course I am going to be proud of it."

"And when he returns from Paris, so he can allow the managers to consider his work, he will be bringing Marie and Meg Giry back with him."

"Of course, I will only allow my work to be performed on the condition that Carlotta is not allowed to perform the role of Aminta," Erik said icily. Christine laughed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Maybe you could find a chorus girl to perform it. Some unknown Prima Donna, just waiting to be discovered," she teased.

Erik smiled and said, "I shall certainly consider it. Anyone but Carlotta."

"Hmm. But please don't drop a screen on anyone, if things don't go your way," she asked

"I wouldn't dream of it," Erik said airily. "More tea?"

* * *

The next four weeks passed quickly. Much of it was spent getting the house ready for the baby, while Christine reacquainted herself with the rents, food tallies, and other business things she had forgotten. Erik was rechecking _Don Juan Triumphant_. Dominique spent a lot of time in the village, making new friends, as well as visiting Emily and Thomas on regular occasions. Although Christine rather suspected this was more because of Andrew, than her godparents. She hadn't mentioned it to Erik, but she had noticed that they were getting on very well.

It was a warm afternoon and the Peron's had come for tea. Dominique and Andrew were wandering around the lawn, talking happily. They were still trying to figure out the puzzle box, and were sure that they were getting close. They sat on the lawn, making guesses and trying out different combinations.

The others were sitting on the terrace, drinking tea and discussing the fast approaching wedding of Christopher.

Suddenly Christine gasped, dropping her teacup. It shattered on the ground and Erik was at his wife's side in a moment. "Christine, what's wrong?"

"Erik… Erik, I think the baby's coming!" Christine gasped. Erik stared at her and then shouted for Rosa.

"Go to the village and get the doctor _now_!"

He bent down and helped Christine up. "Come on, we should get you to a bed."

"Papa, what's going on?" Dominique said, rushing over.

Erik said, "The baby's coming. The doctor is being fetched."

Thomas got up and helped Erik to take Christine inside whilst Emily hastily picked up the shattered teacup. She turned to Dominique and Andrew.

"Go to the kitchen and put some water on to heat so the doctor can wash."

"Alright," Andrew said, but Dominique hesitated.

"But… Mama…"

"There's nothing you can do, dear. Even your father won't be allowed in the room, there's really no point in waiting around," Emily told her kindly.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and Andrew took her arm. "Come on. We'll put some water on."

* * *

Hour after agonisingly slow hour passed. The Peron's, Erik, Rosa, and Dominique waited in the hallway outside as the doctor tended to Christine. After six hours, there was still nothing. Erik passed the hallway anxiously, throwing glances at the clock, pausing outside the door to listen, grinding his teeth and tapping his feet impatiently. Emily and Thomas sat talking quietly with Christopher, while Dominique and Andrew sat on the floor, mostly in silence, occasionally passing a word between them. Dominique had bitten her nails down to the quick and was now chewing her lip. Andrew flicked her nose to make her stop.

"You're bleeding," he said, tapping her lip. She winced and wiped the blood away on her sleeve.

Erik sat on the chair beside Dominique and she leaned her head against his knee.

"Why is taking so long?" she asked quietly.

"It's not an easy task. But I didn't think it would be this long," Erik replied quietly, stroking her hair gently. Rosa got to her feet.

"I'll fetch some drinks and something to eat."

"I'll help you," Emily said, rising.

Erik got to his feet and went to listen at the door again. After hearing nothing he leaned against the wall, rubbing his face, clearly tired. And then he jumped as the door opened and the doctor looked out.

"More hot water. Quickly please, it's almost time." Dominique jumped up and ran to the kitchen. She hurried back, splashing water over herself in her haste. Erik banged on the door. The doctor's head poked out, seized the water and the door slammed shut again. Dominique went to her father's side and put her arms around his waist. He hugged her tightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

"Hmm. I wish I could go in," she said. Erik kissed the top of her head.

"So do I."

A muffled cry sounded through the bedroom door and they both jumped, clinging to each other as they stared at the door. Another scream sounded a moment later and Erik sprang to the door, shouting, "Christine!"

But Thomas darted forward and caught his arm. "No! Let the doctor work!"

"But she's screaming!" Dominique cried.

"You won't be able to do anything, just stay out of the way," Thomas told them both firmly. Erik stared from him to the door and then fell back from it, resuming his pacing, but with more anxiety now. Dominique slumped against the wall and held back a sob as another agonising scream came through the door.

And then there was silence. Everyone stared at the door, waiting, fearful, expectant. Dominique bit her lip again, hardly noticing the pain. Erik was shaking, eyes fixed on the door.

And then came a different sound. Another shrill cry, but not one of agony, of pain. The sound of a child taking its first breath and crying for the very first time.

Unable to stand it for a moment later Dominique and Erik both fell on the door, throwing themselves through. The doctor turned to them as they entered. They both looked at him and he smiled.

"Only a few moments. They need to rest."

Dominique and Erik moved past the doctor to look at the bed. In damp sheets, pale, trembling, beads of sweat running down her face lay Christine. Her eyes were closed and tears were falling down her cheeks. In her arms lay a small bundle.

Erik moved forward and kissed her forehead softly. Christine opened her eyes tiredly and smiled slightly. "Dominique will be disappointed. It's a boy."

Erik fell to his knees beside the bed, clasping one of her hands. "A boy?"

"Yes. This is your son, Erik," Christine said, holding the bundle to him. He took it gingerly and stared down at the tiny child. His face was blotchy and red, his eyes screwed up and his mouth moving gently as he whimpered.

Erik gazed at the baby and then looked at Christine, a wide smile spreading across his face. "My son…"

"Yes. Charles le Phantome," Christine whispered. Erik sank onto the bed beside her, holding the baby gently as Christine rested her head against his shoulder.

Dominique stood a little way off, feeling a little left out. She was unsure of what to do, whether or not she should say anything. To talk now would feel like intruding. But Christine looked across at her and stretched out her arms.

"Little One," she called and Dominique rushed forward to hug her. Christine held her tightly.

"I was so scared," Dominique mumbled.

"Don't be. I know you wanted a sister, but would you like to meet your brother?" Christine asked her. Dominique nodded and sat on Christine's other side. Erik passed Charles across to her and Dominique took him awkwardly, gazing down at the little red boy.

For a moment she didn't say anything or even move. And then Charles unscrewed his eyes and blinked up at her. A delighted smile crossed her face and she touched his cheek gently with the tip of her finger.

"You're my brother," she whispered. Christine and Erik smiled at each other and Dominique whispered to him, "Hello Charles. I'm Dominique. I'm your sister. It's alright that you're not a girl."

Christine laughed softly and the doctor came in.

"Out now, please. Mother and son need some rest." Dominique passed the baby back to Christine and kissed her cheek.

Erik kissed her as well and whispered, "I'll be nearby if you need me."

"I know."

Outside, the others were waiting anxiously for news. Erik smiled at them. "It's a boy. Charles le Phantome." A rush of congratulations came forward but Dominique stood to one side, smiling to herself. Andrew joined her.

"You're a big sister now."

"Yes, I know." She smiled.

He laughed. "What does it feel like?"

Dominique considered. All the things she could do with her new brother. She could sing to him, teach him to play the piano, play games in the garden, make up stories, teach him to ride a horse, show him the best places to hide in the house, and a thousand other things. She smiled at Andrew. "Good. It feels good."

Andrew grinned at her and then, looking around, whispered conspiratorially, "I think I've figured out the puzzle box."

"What? Really?" Dominique squeaked, excitedly. Andrew nodded and passed it to her. Erik paused to watch her as they moved the pictures on the lid of the box. Suddenly there was loud click and the lid to the box flew open. There was nothing inside, but a strange sound started to come from it. Dominique giggled. "Oh, Papa!"

"What is it?" Emily asked, listening to the peculiar song.

"It's their song! _The Phantom of the Opera_." Dominique laughed, listening happily to the tune.

Erik laughed and whispered to her, "It will be your job to teach Charles the song. Will you do that?"

"Yes, of course. He's got quite a lot to learn though," Dominique said.

Erik pulled her into a hug. "We'll do it together."

* * *

She was bored. Papa was in Paris again, and Mama was busy with the estate business. Charles was napping again. Dominique was sure she hadn't slept that much when she was four years old.

Dominique sighed and moved along the tree branch, wondering if she'd be able to see Papa coming back along the road. He _promised_ he'd be home today. After all it was her birthday tomorrow! And you didn't turn sixteen everyday. Papa had promised, so he'd be here.

She closed her eyes and started to hum idly. Just as she was becoming comfortable she heard her name being called. Mama was standing on the terrace looking around for her. "Dominique, where are you?"

"In the tree," she called back. Mama crossed the lawn and looked up at her. Dominique smiled down. Mama was so beautiful. She wished she looked that lovely. She had the same hair as Mama, and Papa's eyes, but Dominique was sure she wasn't as pretty as her mother. Papa always told her that she was, but he was her father, he was supposed to say things like that.

"Are you going to come down?" Mama asked. Dominique considered.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well that's a pity. It's nearly time for tea," Mama said lightly. Dominique shrugged.

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh well. I'll just have to tell Thomas, Emily and Andrew that you're not joining us for tea."

"Andrew's coming?" Dominique gasped, sitting up straight. Christine smiled sweetly.

"Yes, but if you're not hungry I'll just tell him that you didn't want to come."

"No, no, I've changed my mind," Dominique said quickly, starting to climb down the tree.

Christine watched her run inside to change her dirty clothes and smiled to herself. She returned to the terrace, just as Dominique ran past Rosa. The maid laughed at the girl and turned to Christine. "What's going on?"

"I merely informed her that Andrew was joining us for tea."

"Ah," Rosa said, knowingly. Christine laughed.

"They're so innocent together. Erik and I never had a simple relationship like that."

"Well, you were too busy running from evil Viscounts," Rosa pointed out.

"True. I'll help fetch the tea things."

* * *

Dominique pulled on a clean dress and quickly brushed her hair. After checking her reflection and scolding herself for her vanity, she moved along the corridor to Charles's room. He was just waking when she entered. Dominique laughed and tickled him until he squealed delightedly.

"Time for tea, Charlie," she told him and he smiled.

"Is Papa back?"

"Not yet. But he will be. He promised," Dominique told her brother, picking him up. He put his arms around her neck, so she carried him on her back, wrapping his legs around her middle. Dominique laughed and started to run down the stairs, Charles screaming happily.

In the entrance hall however, the Peron's had already arrived as Dominique and Charles came rushing, laughing happily. Andrew smiled at Dominique's flushed face and happy smile, Charles grinning over one shoulder. Dominique swung him around to hold him in her arms until he wriggled free and ran to greet Andrew.

"Andrew!"

"Hello Charlie," Andrew said, ruffling his hair. Charles grinned at him and then went to say hello to Emily and Thomas.

Dominique smiled, almost shyly at Andrew. "Hello Andrew."

"Hello Dominique. Having fun?" he asked, gesturing at Charles. She laughed.

"He's only just woken up from his nap. I… I didn't know you were coming today."

"Mother only told me this morning. I would have come anyway though. It's not everyday that that my favourite girl turns sixteen," Andrew said, scratching his blonde hair, his green eyes laughing.

Dominique smiled and said, "Not 'til tomorrow."

"I know, but it's still special," Andrew argued.

Christine cleared her throat. "Let's go out into the garden, shall we? It's a gorgeous day." They made their way through the house to the garden. The sun beat down on them as they sat around the table. Dominique sat beside Andrew, her eyes fixed downwards, back stiff and awkward. Christine and Emily exchanged an amused glance.

The conversation turned to Erik and his imminent arrival. "He says he trusts Marie and Monsieur Reyer to take care of things, but in truth he won't allow anyone to organize these things except himself," Christine commented. "And he's bringing Meg and Marie back with him for a visit."

"If he doesn't come home I'll _never_ talk to him again," Dominique said firmly.

Christine laughed, "Oh, Little One, of course he'll be home."

That nickname rather annoyed Dominique. She wasn't a child anymore, but her mother still called her by it. She didn't comment though, picking at the biscuit in her hands. Charles had crawled under the table with the kitchen cat and was feeding her pieces of cake. Dominique looked under the table to stop him and Charles pushed a piece of cake into her mouth. She straightened, coughing and spluttering. Everyone started to laugh at her and she pulled a face, wiping the crumbs away.

* * *

It was an hour later when a voice called through the house. Dominique and Charles both jumped in joy, running into the entrance hall and throwing themselves into their father's arms. He smiled down at them, lifting Charles and looking at him.

"Have you been good?"

"Yes Papa!"

"I knew you would be." He put him down and turned to Dominique, kissing her cheek. "And as for you, young lady, I've got a present for you." Dominique laughed and Erik smiled. "But first I'm going to sit down. It was a long journey." Christine stepped forward kissed him. He held her tightly and Dominique smiled to herself. What was it like, she wondered, to live your whole life still loving someone so much as her parents loved each other?

After they had greeted Meg and Marie, and were all seated back in the garden, Erik reached into his bag and turned to Dominique. "Happy Birthday, Dominique." He passed her a box, wrapped in pretty paper.

Dominique smiled and Christine said pointedly, "It's not your birthday yet."

"Please?" Dominique said, widening her eyes innocently.

Christine laughed and looked at Erik. "You spoil her."

"She deserves to be spoiled," Erik said airily. Christine rolled her eyes. Erik dipped into the bag again and handed Christine a box. "And so do you." Christine laughed.

"You're not going to win me over that easily!"

"We'll see," Erik said confidently.

Dominique swiftly unwrapped the box. Inside lay a leather-bound book. Dominique opened it and stared at the blank pages of sheet music. Erik smiled. "Look at the cover." She closed it again and saw, in gold print, the words _Dominique le Phantome_. "I think it's about time you started to create your own masterpieces," Erik told her.

Dominique looked up at him, a wide smile on her face. She hugged him tightly, kissing his unmasked cheek. "Thank you, Papa. It's perfect."

Erik held her tightly. Christine watched them both, a smile on her lips. Charles tugged at her hand and she picked him up. "Yes darling?"

"Do I get a present?"

"It's not your birthday!" Christine laughed. But Erik lifted an eyebrow and reached into his bag, pulling out a smaller box. Charles seized it greedily and tore it open. Christine screamed and jumped up. Dominique and Andrew leaned forward in morbid fascination. "Erik, what_ is_ that?" Christine demanded.

"Scorpion!" Charles grinned. Erik arched his eyebrow again.

"It's not real. Clockwork. Charlie, wind up the key on the side." Charles set the lifelike toy on the table and rotated the key. The scorpion scuttled forward and Christine fell back.

"Erik, what on earth possessed you to buy it?"

"I didn't buy it. I made it," Erik told her. She glared at him.

"Well, that's _much_ better, isn't it?"

"It's only a toy, Mama," Dominique pointed out. Christine looked at Charles.

"Put it away for now."

Reluctantly, Charles pushed the scorpion back into the box. Marie looked at Erik. "So that is what you were doing in your spare time?"

"Only when I grew so frustrated with those fools at the Opera House that I needed to relax," Erik said pointedly.

Meg smiled at Christine, "He shouted enough to bring the chandelier down! Not literally of course, but I'm quite sure it was shaking!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Meg," Erik said irritably. Christine laughed.

"And how is dear Carlotta?"

"Furious about being cast in a side role," Marie commented, "She has more tantrums now than she had as the lead!"

"I will not permit her to destroy my work," Erik insisted.

* * *

Some time later, as evening drew close, Rosa started to move their tea things indoors. As everyone prepared to go inside, Andrew caught Dominique's hand.

"Walk with me?" he whispered. She nodded and they started a circuit of the lawn. Christine paused by the doors to watch them. Erik joined her.

"What are you looking at?" he asked her and she smiled at him. Erik looked around and saw the pair. They had stopped, on the opposite side of the lawn, by the tree Dominique had been sitting in that morning. Andrew was facing Dominique, talking rapidly.

"What…?" Erik began and Christine sighed.

"Erik, my darling, isn't it obvious?"

He looked down at her and smiled. "You mean…?"

"Yes." His arms snaked around her waist and he held her tightly. Christine sighed and whispered, "I love you."

"I know. I didn't… being back at the Opera House reminded me of everything I never thought I would have, but do. You and Dominique and Charlie... I'm always afraid that one day you'll disappear." He pulled her a little tighter and she hugged him.

"Even after sixteen years? Or more, if we include the years when we were at the Opera Populaire."

"Even after this long."

"Well, Erik, I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with us for a very long time. Maybe even forever."

"Forever would be perfect," Erik murmured. And then he smiled.

Christine looked at him suspiciously. "What?"

He nodded towards Andrew and Dominique. Christine turned and a smile filled her face. Even as she watched, Andrew took Dominique's left hand and placed something on it. The next second, Dominique had laughed happily and thrown her arms around Andrew's neck and he was swinging her around, laughing as well.

Christine glanced up at Erik. He looked down at her with a slight smile and Christine kissed him softly. "Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Say you love me," she whispered, tracing the outline of the mask.

Erik pulled his head back slightly, looking down at her. A tiny smile touched his lips. "You know I do." He kissed her and then asked, "Did you open the gift I brought you?"

Christine cast her mind back and then said, "No. It's on the table." She moved across to it and opened it, Erik watching closely. Taking the lid from the box, Christine smiled. "Erik…"

"You like it?"

"Of course I do," Christine said, taking the necklace from the box and admiring it.

Erik placed it around her neck and said quietly, "May I ask something of you?"

"Of course you can."

"Sing for me."

Christine smiled and looked over at the young couple beneath the tree. She took Erik's hand and pulled him inside to the music room.

"Let's give them little privacy."

"I'm not sure that I want them to be alone," Erik said hesitantly but Christine pushed his arm gently.

"Don't be ridiculous! Don't you remember what it was like when we first fell in love? Let them enjoy it."

He didn't look very happy but followed her to the music room. The others were in the sitting room and both Erik and Christine knew that they would have to join them shortly. But at that particular moment in time they only wanted each other. As Erik began to play, Christine sat on the stool beside him and took the mask off, laying it on the lid of the piano. Erik turned his gaze to her and she smiled. "You promised."

"What did I promise?" Erik asked quietly.

"When you asked me to marry you for the first time, I said 'never let me go, that's all I ask of you.' I'm afraid that means you've got to stay, even if we do drive you to insanity," she reminded him.

Erik looked at her, a slight smile on his face. "I believe I shall manage." Christine smiled, resting her head on his shoulder as he began to play again. Dominique would be married, Charles would grow up, they would live in their house and play music. Christine smiled at the prospect.

It was all they had ever wanted.

_Fin_.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this epilogue! I was a little uncertain of how to end it, but I think it came out OK. I wanted to focus a lot more on Dominique, so it pretty much circles around her. **

**First come the thank you's. And there are a _lot_ of them. For the reviewers, because you are incredible! Just the fact that you even took the time to read and this and stuck around to tell me what you thought means so much!**

**And, of course, enormous thanks to La Foamy for her wonderful beta-ing skills. I've never had a beta before, and it was a wonderful experience! Thank you so much, Foamy. You're the best! **

**Next, I have a little bit of boasting to do. Hee hee. This story has been nominated, along with _Cold, Cold Heart_ for POTO Reader's Choice Phanphiction Awards in the category of Alternate Universe. My other POTO story, _A Defensive Situation _has also been nominated in the Comedy/Parody category. All my thanks go to whoever nominated me! Don't know who it was, so if anyone can tell me, please do so I can personally thank them. Voting hasn't started yet but for more information go here:**

www. freewebs. com/ phanphicawards/

**  
Take the spaces out, or it won't work. I can't believe I was even nominated! Especially since I've only started writing Phanfics a couple of months ago. I'm so honoured! ****And so it ends – that story I wrote when I was too bored to do anything else and never had any intention of posting. Thank you all for your support, you're all incredible and I love you so much. Erik shaped cookies for all! starts to hand out cookies**

**  
And I'm not just in a good mood because it was so well received. But because I GOT THE MOVIE TODAY! I was so happy! I can't wait to watch it. But decided I wanted to get this up first. That's how much I love you, that I'm sacrificing two and a half hours of Gerry Butler, just to give you this last part!****I'm going to go now, because this A/N is turning out to be longer than the actual chapter. **

**Once more – thank you and farewell.**

**Lots of love**

**Katie**


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